When you wake up, walk through your house in search of light and find it dancing around and through the pink Christmas tree in your living room, a good day is upon you.
When the month began, I thought we would see the country usher in the first woman president. By month’s end, I was grieved to see so many examples of the cruelty of mankind. November has been a fever in a year hostage to the crackle and sizzle of a slow-burning fuse. Self care was vital. Each day seeking out that which gives me joy. Holding close those I love. Praying I made a positive impact somewhere, anywhere. Still, I am gratitude.
Trick or treat? You decide. There’s something haunting about my little apple, aside from the obvious razor jutting out from its stem. So inviting, like most temptations, so familiar its benign. That moment whole food intersects horror.
Water always calls to me. The solitude. The romance. The constant churning of earth beneath the tide. Every important thing in my life is, or has been, a characteristic of the sea: my daughter, a small sea bird; my brothers, bright sturdy boats; my father, a lighthouse; my mother, a mooring; my lover, a fisherman; and myself a mermaid. These roles shift over time, but unlike the shoreline they never erode. These are the people who anchor me.