postcard from chicago (august 8, 2009)

(front)
Windows tiled for miles seen through sunbeamed air you could ring out over the sink.

(back)
unexpected missing
(heart open)
wishing
i knew how
(to tell you)

i just keep going.

postcard from michigan (august 6, 2009)

{front}

{back}

you can look behind you

and own what you see

(all of it)

especially when you find your own reflection

postcard from michigan (august 4, 2009)

{front}
a stack of dusty, tattered-edged rescued postcards wrapped with string that encases whispered missings of long ago...

{back}
a moment to breathe in the quiet
a decision to dance in your life
a belief in you
a bouquet of hope
a smile reflected
a heart open to the world

this is what i wish for you.

postcard from michigan (august 3, 2009)

(front)
Sunshine orange happy susans perfect mountain pose amidst droplets of drink.

(back)
avenue
just
town
quiet
why
hamlet

on the board they went until we ran out of letters and his usual eeyore luck changed as he placed the "x" spelling "ox".

postcard from michigan (august 2, 2009)

(front)
Brown hair in two braids, head tipped back, you can almost hear the laughter as the little girl finds glee standing ankle deep in the midst of the colors and noise and bodies at the beach.

(back)
The rhythm of his breath
The wind winds through oaks
Car whips past, now two
Fan turns turns turns
My foot slips through blue sheets
A voice outside, now two
He turns away from the light
Quiet...
Finding me now
Inhale
Exhale
The rhythm of this life

postcard from michigan (august 1, 2009)

(front)

Sliver of bright burning fuschia sneaks through grey plus white puffy, thick pillows as the lake tosses and trips below.

(back)

The wind pushed through me today as I stood atop the bluff. Pushed and threw me as I watched the gulls float instead of fly even though they pushed to move through; the wind pushed back as they soared in one place. Like me with feet planted, no grounded as I soar with each push and pull, as I float while grounded.

postcard from indiana (july 31, 2009)

{front}

sunbeams dancing through summer-heavy oak leaves dripping from reaching branches

{back}

they say you can never go home

again

but in this moment,

i believe,

you can find yourself

relaxing inside comfort and laughter

and breathing in the unexpected moments

of being the you

you never thought you might be

in this home.

know.

south carolina coast long ago.

i want to know this person smiling right at me. i want to hear her laughter as she looks toward someone she loves who has managed to snap this moment of perfect joy.

i want to know her.
this is what i said each time we watched this and came to this photo.
i want to know her, i would say to jon.
and sometimes tears would knock at the back of my eyes as my mind would catch up with my words.

what is she thinking in this moment? who surrounds her? she is not quite two and on the south carolina coast. more than thirty years ago. thirty years. she did not know that more than three decades later she would wish that she had memorized every second of this moment. we never realize how much we will want to remember each sound, touch, breath.

i see hope and a heart open to all that is to come. i see love. i see a little girl who already knows love.

i want to know her.

she is a teacher this one. she is a teacher and those around her on this day know this truth. yes. they do know as they look at her wide open heart taking in each moment, each sound, each touch, each breath. in the quiet places where they are safe being themselves, they know she is here to teach them to open their hearts even if only for one breath. open up, she whispers as the wind blows and she smiles with love on her face.

i want to know her.

i want to reach my hand through this photo and touch that soft cheek and say, please tell me all you know. please tell me what it feels like to love with such a softness, with such hope.

i want to know her.

and the tears tap at the backs of my eyes as my mind catches up with the truth,

and the wisdom within whispers...