good night, dear lady.
measuring the passage of time, it is so easy to become fixated on a particular point of view- of one's own. i often look into my calendar and think about what ' i ' need to do. occasionally, i am reminded of the vastness of this world, never-stopping, gently undulating ocean, through the news that comes through the resilient spider-silk communication of people i love.
i always wish that i reach out to others as much as i reach inward for self. i dont, always. i lose perspective and get myopic about self-centred events, forgetting the most important concept- that i exist only within the context of the world.
and often, the news are surprising, filling the day with many hues of thoughts.
today, i read that a friend from nebraska days finally concluded her journey with cancer. regrets came like waves. like bitter, angry, north winter wind. a maelstrom of 'wished, couldve, shouldve...'
as i get older, often, i can measure the passage of time through loses. of things that will never be, again. of persons that will never see again. of transformation of future-plans and hopes into impossible reach into imaginations only. the weight of it does not get lighter, like sinking another stone into gentle fine sand dune, the losses simply accumulate, for me to keep, to my heart, which will grow larger with these loves that is now fixed, no longer thriving. so i go on to fill my life with stories and lives. overflowing.
like a leaf, she left, quietly, lightly,
riding up the upward cusp of bleak barren winter,
light gets a bit longer, bit warmer,
over the huddled shoulders against the wind,
when the warmth touches my back,
i will smile, for your presence and friendship,
as i carry you in my heart.
good night, sheri erickson.