Just Write {158}

October 21, 2014

I looked up at the stars tonight, on a perfectly clear fall evening. Every constellation looks like a Dipper to me. Little or Big Dipper, I don’t know. I get distracted before I even take a closer look.

I see all the stars at once.

In college, I took Astronomy. Obviously, I didn’t learn much, or retained very little of it.

But there I stood, my neck bent with my face to the salt and peppered sky. For October in Minnesota, it has been warm, gorgeous. Not easy to describe at all. The last two days have been still and bright and crisp, with that nothing-like-it autumn smell in the air.

There was a walk in the woods the other day. Up a hill and to a fallen tree. There were pricklies on my sweater and stuck to my jeans. Some even got in my pocket. I pulled at them and then realized I didn’t care if they were there. Later they’d be evidence of a time that felt perfect, peaceful, serene, holy.

The only sounds were the rustling of leaves while a few squirrels hopped nearby, stopped to stare, hopped some more. One stood on its hind legs and held a big acorn to its mouth. It didn’t blink, stood frozen there, like a staring contest. Then off it went again, leaping from low branch to low branch, a bed of brown crisp leaves beneath, covering every inch of the ground. Those leaves were just the right blanket for us to sit on, leaning back on the trunk of a fallen tree, perfectly still and staring, like a contest.

Light cut through, the wind did not. If you can wear a sweatshirt and not be cold, or hot, in the sun…life is good.

This was a gift. I mean, the sweatshirt, yes, but simply the walk and the time to sit in the woods, to be quiet together. And then to get up and take the long way back on purpose. To follow a trail or not, walking slowly on purpose. To remember together and walk and talk ,or walk and not talk, and have either words or no words feel good and right.

We took a breath after weeks and maybe months of running, with our backs against a dead tree. Our souls sighed and hung out together, like they always have, despite time and distance and the reality of the separate lives we led. The ones that were just right for their time.

It’s impossible to see where connections begin, how they start, why they stay.

So tonight I looked up at the stars and thought about that. And even if the mystery of soul connection isn’t something I can make sense of, I take it in all at once, for its beauty.

:::::

This is the 158th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon

{ 1 comment }

Just Write 157

October 14, 2014

This is the back corner of the coffee shop where I love to write. Jenna is coming soon.

There is nothing like a friend who has known you since you were five.

While I put the creamer in my dark roast, up front, a “Hi, Heather” came from behind me. I turned to see a high school teacher of mine, from all those years ago. I have no idea how so many of these people around this small hometown look the same. Hardly aged. Does Minnesota country air do something good for those that choose a healthy lifestyle? I’m pretty sure there’s something to that.

Yesterday was a hard day. I don’t know, there’s just a lot of stress. And I stopped at Goodwill to look for more vintage for the walls at the Cre8tive Escape because our Grand Opening is this Thursday and oh yeah, no we’re totally not ready. Like that kind of “not ready” that means if I wake up in the night I have trouble shutting down my brain. It wants to list all the things left to do and add new ones. It’s so silly, how you wake up in the morning and roll your eyes and feel like you aren’t even that worried about that brain list but Night Person thought you were.

Anyway. I was at Goodwill and I was walking in all hurried and brain-listing and this girl was up by the door, her arms spread wide like she was receiving, and her face was turned to the autumn sun. She shouted, so loud, WHAT A GOOD DAY TO BE ALIVE!! She was just there, walking in to shop, and stopped to soak up the day, celebrate it, praise it right out loud.

The stress in me flew out on the wind with her words.

I watched the boys walking into school when I dropped them off this morning. In the drizzling rain. Miles hopped out of the van and immediately took off his hat, started smashing down mussy hair with his palm, over and over as he walked. He said something to Asher and Asher looked up and said something back, like he was ok-ing the hair. Then he took off his hat and started in it as they walked side by side. Two boys who suddenly care about their hair before seeing their friends. It was just too much, something about this. The way they checked each other out for approval and it was helping, but it was also sad, in the way that letting go can be. You look great, loves. Always. Just you being you. I promise. 

I got choked up and Elsie asked from her seat if I was going to cry. (These poor kids with their sensitive mother always noticing.) No, Honey. I’m okay. I was just watching Brothers and I love them so much. 

A few seconds later she started to laugh, as we went over those rumble bumps that remind you to slow down. She said it tickled. Then we drove on and she started laughing when there were no rumble bumps and I asked, What now, silly head?

The trees are funny! 

Then we both laughed and laughed, because giddiness is contagious, and it’s rainy and chilly but it’s a good day to be alive.

:::::

This is the 157th installment of Just Writean exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {New here? Please see the details.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. (Then link back to this post in your Just Write post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?



Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon

{ 3 comments }

be here now

October 9, 2014

I was driving along and paying close attention to how many leaves have fallen. Holy buckets, I thought. It happens so fast. And it was so gusty, so the leaves were swirling and whirling and even getting caught up in the air, sweeping circles above the minivan. It was like they were trying to fall back up to the branches. I was pulling a trailer with a lawn mower in it, because I am small town Minnesota, hear me roar. I was on my way to the Cre8tive Escape building, which everyone in my life, including me, lovingly calls, The Building. The lawn, it did need a’mowin’. And we have our Grand Opening in ONE WEEK and maybe mowing isn’t the highest priority for that, but it is a high priority for me because the renters at the building should have a nice place to come to work and create, not a marshy [...]

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon
read me →

Just Write 156

October 7, 2014

There was a cookies-n-cream fluffy pie with chocolate cookie crumble crust tucked behind things in the fridge. The boys found it, of course, and asked to have some. I told them from the other room to each have ONE small piece, and they did. Well, they were actually really big pieces. What was left was a “piece” of pie so small, it was less than Elsie Sized. She didn’t know yet, but I left it on the counter until she noticed, because what child never notices a pie tin at eye level? What’s that!? She ask-yelled. Oh that? I said. That, is what’s left of the pie after Brothers got a hold of it. Then I grabbed a fork and I sat down right there on the kitchen floor. She came over quick, down to her knees halfway to me, scooting along full-force. I met her with the fork in the air, and [...]

Share on FacebookShare on TwitterPin it on PinterestShare via emailSubmit to StumbleUpon
read me →