i am in awe of people who open and promise their heart to a beloved. along with the loving and the happily ever after comes the risk of excruciating loss. lovers eventually must part; one of the pair ascending into the never-ending starry skies and the other pulled down into a bottomless pool of familiar sorrow. my baby sister, in her small village, barely finds time to grieve her husband. she is the mother hen who has to protect all the chicks even as the dark waters lap at her feet. she is finding that her legs aren’t carrying her properly. and also there is all the stuff he left behind. so much stuff. which things of his to hold on to. what precious pieces lead to him now. how to hold on to him while letting go.
in the fairy tale village the starshine is unimpeded, messengers in form of talking ravens, leaping whales, and magic hares abound, plus hairy trolls and generous giants can be found on every corner. daughters revisit their transparent umbilical cords and their mothers acquiesce to the pull. the oldest mother rarely sleeps but only dreams as the moon and the ocean ebb and flow all night long. we celebrate her with a tiny chocolate cake that magically feeds everyone.
the city mice need to return to their homes. we strap Diana (our half a century old Swiss kids’ bike) and the Falcon (vintage British racing bicycle) to the roof of the fully packed car (we are helping) and head out. an enormous full moon rises from the pink horizon and escorts us to a Black Oak (coffee shop) where a small princess weeps. she wants to save her ice cream treat for later but is told that not everything can be held on to.
on the gad 