Merry Christmas To Me

Today I waited.

I waited for everyone to go to bed.

For the house to get quiet and still.

For the creatures to settle in their stirring.

I waited, and then I made my way to the wall of words.

Untouched for a year, or more.

I ran my hands over those words like braille, like a blind one

searching a lover's face.

I came up with this:

Letting Go of The Grass

 “We will all eventually let go of the grass and go where the stars are”

~Patricia Polacco

Yesterday around 6:00 p.m., my Granny let go of the grass, and is now reunited with her husband, mother and daughter.  Eldest and I are heading out tomorrow morning.  My prayer is that it is a celebration of her wonderful life and the person that she was.  

Wandering Wondering

So I have stumbled back here today.  Stumbled because, as of late, that seems to be my default mode of movement: stumbling.  I lumbered through both my blogs, surveying the dust and neglect, and find that Russia seems to have, yet again, been a frequent visitor.  Doesn't it have better things to do?  Russia, go home, you've had too much vodka.

At any rate, my sweet Granny  miraculously took a turn for the better, and so I am wondering if and when I can get out there to see her.  Hitting the road might do me a world of good.  Shake off this numbness and wake up a sleeping soul.

So just thought I'd drop by.