Now that it’s December, the still winter nights are inspiring me to look inward, quietly. I’m hitting pause to acknowledge a few special moments from this year. While snippets of songs and important conversations have paved the way for the muse on this blog for years, the tones are more muted under the influence of winter's hush.
I want to remember:
Realizing I could play the song about the gypsy on my guitar.
Pulling over just to admire a Virginia stream and spotting Tristan’s twig.
Seeing those Blue Ridge Mountains and wondering how the family ever left them for Kentucky.
Rocking on the porch of the inn while trucks and sedans breezed past on the Appalachian Trail.
Turning down that rock road and taking it real slow.
Marking my nearness to the show by the lights on the Austin capitol.
Smiling from overwhelming joy and catching a friend’s wink.
Opening the shade of a westerly window in my boudoir to find a round, morning moon there to greet me.
Watching the sun rise in the east at the breakfast table, sensing all the activity in neighboring Philly and feeling glad to be tucked into a quiet residential enclave.
Acknowledging that even severe pain is fleeting in the grand scheme of things.
Looking at my buzzing cell phone on a Friday night at nine o’clock and knowing that it has to be that gal in the bayou calling just to ask me how life is.
Padding around wooden floors in fringe moccasins, checking on nothing in particular in each room while my family sleeps.
Figuring out it's best to lie in bed at night with an earbud loaded into one ear and a pillow under the other so when the sound gives way to dreamscape I don’t wake with an earbud ache.
Sitting up in bed one night because I finally heard what the music was saying.
Hearing a song and knowing I’m not alone.
The month is waning and I fear the cards will never get sent. I wish you sweet dreams for the long winter’s nap, and some quiet in your December.
-HH
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