pieces collected at the foot of a mosaic wall separating the luxurious waterfront homes in the nearby township On the station platform, waiting for the train the rest of my life.
It takes time to repair, heal and rebuild. Much more than we would wish that we were granted it, too. I was born more than I ever imagined. When you are lucky like me to have parents who love, help, listen and never judge. At the very least, do not judge their offspring. The nest is still there, cozy room with the teenager I was, repairing the fireplace and great food, all things planted, cultivated, watered, harvested, cooked with heart and seasons. Little is said in family. The filial love do not bother with words, he manifested every day in deed, a gift of oneself. No, I does not idealize my parents, my family. I love them with their unspoken, their blunders. I scanned in the eye shadow on my part.That's it. Off, lost on sharing the waters of the Atlantic Ocean and Indian Ocean, I saw the sharks, the world's beauty, and I cried all the tears in my body. Strangers have opened their doors, their heart.
returned home, I grew up, repaired toys that was given to me to make reparation. I again took part in social play and professional, paid my debts, I discovered a wealth of unexpected energy. Joy.
benefactors have dressed my wounds suddenly clothing, travel, books, meals, gifts, jazz, nights on the scooter key opening on a field of possibilities. One day I will write to these men and women who went to the window of their bank and a candid smile hung on his face, handed me a wad of cash. Given .
With only consideration for a thank you. Then
missing elsewhere, these people. I am immensely grateful to these beings, angels that have crossed my life and my father, my mother, my sister, my friend that I abandoned. On the station platform, I await the process of following my life. With only consideration for a thank you. Then
0 comments:
Post a Comment