It feels odd to transition from having so much time to myself, more than my spirit could deal with at times, allowing for the loneliness and fear of the bleak future to guide my thoughts. I have little energy physically at the end of the day to worry about anything. I come home and fold into the dogs who had become my touchstone in so many ways. They slept and I worried through the months. We did it together though I would say that they are much more adaptable than myself and their fur has magical qualities.
This morning came after some tossing and turning and then falling into a deep sleep where people in my spiritual community showed up in strange vignettes that my mind created. The "Norm Up" cafe on a street that seemed to be in my hometown but was not. I woke to the hummingbird in the backyard twittering away for a mate, crows and finch bird sounds. A cool morning unlike the rest of the week. My cup of coffee was heaven. Working outdoors makes other sensations more grand and my appreciation of a chair near the rosebushes, a hot cup of coffee, a pizza and some lotion on my tired feet is simple yet prophetic.
Even with all of that in my week, I woke to the feeling that I often have on the weekends waiting for me. It is sitting in a chair watching me sleep and speaks in that soft, familiar voice as my old feet hit the carpet. I miss my family.
I miss what it feels like to have family close by and I have had that feeling for decades now. It is a feeling, unlike other strong emotions though tethered to a lack of connection to friends who are close. I know people yet people are on the periphery or the people that I know are peripheral because I cannot seem to get to them or they are unfathomable. I have a deep yearning that came with me to this planet and has never left. An ache in my chest, my heart, my sense of self. An unmatched pang or pain or hunger to sit with others who call themselves my kin.
My thoughts this morning turned to the Donna Reed show and since no one is really looking, I can date myself and say that I sat in awe and watched dutifully, imagining a mother and a family that looked like that.
For those of us, leading and trailing edge baby boomers, those television programs are as much our memories of growing up and black and white portals into our innermost desires. Yes, that was when T.V. was only black and white. To me, that was the real stuff. For me, growing up in an Alcoholic home, Donna Reed's version of "We Are Family" may be a catchy tune and it was right on the money.
