I’m sitting here, watching my nieces play together. Each time they cuddle with me or give me a hug or smile at my entrance, it’s like my world gets just a little bit better.
I drive West, and I see the mountains in the distance, shadowy giants guarding snowcapped strongholds, the sun illuminating only pieces here and there, clouds covering, clouds breaking… And I feel, just a little bit, like I could be okay.
This could be okay.
There is majesty here, beauty that I can fall into every day.
And then I move, I go to work, surrounded by new people, and I wrestle with this new term: orphan. Is that what I am now? It hurts to go to a place every day and interact with countless people who have no idea that I’m thinking about all this. Something fundamental has changed about who I am, and nobody here in Colorado knows it. I don’t think I’m looking for pity, I am simply looking for someone out there to recognize what is going on inside me and to offer me their acknowledgement, a hand to keep me going…
I don’t know how to find it. Instead of running to the One I know is there, reaching, holding… I search for comfort in stories and fantasies and all I want to do is escape this term, escape this state of being, escape this new way of living, of living without. I get so lost, and sometimes it still feels like I’m drowning.
So I step outside, I breathe in this autumn air, and I try to let the Majesty take me.
I can’t do this any other way.