It's that late afternoon time of day when the early darkness reflects inwards.
Snow - is falling. All is quiet.
My mind wanders. It wonders.
How is it that - this year - I'm going to 'be' different?
What is it that I can 'do' that will make it new?
How will I make this 'now' my everyday?
This first weekend of this new year has been busy and full.
Cleaning and clearing my mother's art studio and space....preparing and transforming it into my own.
I cried. I cried at the finality. I cried at life's fragility.
I cried for my loss...and for hers...and for all of ours.
I cried because - I'm sad...and cried because I'm confused...and because I'm lost...and because - I'm found.
I cried because I no longer know the answers.
Stepping into these new shoes....is stepping into shoes that have always been - in my mind - larger than life.
Greater than great.
Bigger than big.
More than anyone could possibly imagine.
She lived her life in a burst of full color. I live mine in quieter...gentler monochrome.
She was my mother. I am her daughter. Who am I now?
Who and what will shape and define me?
How will I know?
To whom will I ask my questions?
How am I going to make this year new?
This year different?
How am I going to grow into this new version...this new definition of 'I am'?
The answers will come from within - I know. I need only to look inside...to trust...to believe....to listen.
I want to write. I want to write this story. I want to make sense of what isn't sensible.
I want to remember the feeling...the moment...the color and light and day.
It want to write to hold on to it...to see it....to release it...and let it all go.
I want to write to know.
And - I want to write to grow.
As I sit here looking out...the window returns my gaze with its own pensive reflection.
I'm watching these little orbs dance in a gentle...slowed motion.
The air breathes in silence.
I remember how much she loved these. And - I imagine my mother smiling.