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The Warmth of Winter

I think even winter feels like this when you're in love.  It's so beautiful, isn't it?  My son found his heart and it makes mine sing to watch him.  He somehow managed to take this photograph himself with his iPhone, with his eyes closed!  It captures how they feel about each other so perfectly.  I'm going to frame it because I think it's one of my favorite photographs ever and certainly my favorite one of this season.   It warms my heart. 

It's been an interesting two days here in Upstate New York.  A few images so that someday when I look back on this, I will remember.  The warmth of the lead image is sustaining me.  The rest are my documentation of the March 14-15, 2017 winter storm.  Hard to believe spring is just around the corner!

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The Way That You Saved Me

I learned
To let go
Of the illusion
That we can possess
I learned to let go
I travel in stillness
And I’ll remember happiness
I’ll remember...
— Patrick Leonard, Madonna Ciccone, Richard page

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All The Secrets That Stay That Way

"Where are they hiding? All the things we should know but somehow never do. All the secrets that stay that way and the translations of life that get lost as they are passed down over the years and moments that fill the spaces between our bones. Do we know them, have we always known them? Are they lost inside us, covered with the sediment of experience and failure, longing and the quiet acquiescence to the many responsibilities we bury ourselves in? How did we forget that the most homesick you will ever feel is when you are finally standing on the porch, but have not yet put the key to the lock, turned the knob to the door, and stepped inside? That weight and wait sound the same for a reason, and the longer you do the latter, the more you can feel the former. The heavier it becomes and perhaps this, exactly and precisely this, is why when old age catches up, inches have been erased from our proud and former height. We shrink under the immeasurable and invisible weight of the wait, no matter what we are waiting for. Who told us the best truth - that what’s simple is true and it is our fault that so often we hold a simple thing, only to let it tarnish in the dirty water of false complications? We stare into our outstretched palms and rather than rejoice in the perfection we’ve stumbled upon, each perfect minute and fragile breath, we find ways to pick it apart. We look for flaws instead of features, cracks instead of character. We lose it somehow and somewhere along the way, that life is short. Short in that there will never be enough time to do the things we need to do, and absolutely never enough time to tell those we need to tell all the things we need to tell them. Say them. Shout them. Scream them or whisper. Your voice will know the volume when it finds the ears that need the words. Say them because tomorrow is not a promise, it is a hope. Say them because they deserve to hear them and say them because your voice will shake but it’s the shaking that means it’s worth it. Was it stolen or did we give it away in the darkest moments of our weakest days? This belief and hope that it’s ok to believe and it’s crucial to hope. All these lost things, these missing and missed things, where are they now? Perhaps they are never lost and always hiding inside ourselves. Perhaps we have half the answer and we are only waiting to find the other half, living secret and silent and shaking the voice of the one whose voice you have waited your entire life to hear."
-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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You Just Know

There is a journey that the mother of a son must take. It's a little bit like standing at the edge of a vast open field, with his hand firmly tucked into yours and nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and your heart beating, steady in time to his. You know. You just know.


He looks at you, smiling. You know it's coming...that inevitable letting go...so that it can be planted and grow the way it is meant to. The way it can't, if it stays in the comfort of your shade. The knowledge of it is lodged down inside you like a tiny seed that will someday grow to be a redwood tree. You know. You just know.


You smile down at him reassuring, nodding while swallowing the lump and beaming your customary smile while each finger opens in slow motion, and he lets go, running into the wild. There will be so much joy there and quite likely, an equal measure of sorrow. You wish it didn't have to be that way, but to change it, would be to stop a process meant to refine the boy into the man. You know. You just know.


You watch, as he takes the hand of another. You know it's right and you're strong enough to bear it because in doing so, you strip yourself of the necklace of his own best interest and place it around the neck of someone whose goal is the same. If he's chosen well. And he has. You know. You just know.


When he comes to the edge of the field where you are standing and he holds out his hand to you, palms as wide open as his heart is, you look at what he is offering. This beautiful gift. Photographs that you didn't take. The chance to see him through the eyes of another who loves him. To see him the way she sees him. Strong. Capable. Creative. Loved. Hers. You know. You just know.


He tells you that there's a good chance she's leaving and that her world is breaking apart. That the world she lives in isn't the same for her that it is for him and that they will be separated by states, by time zones, by a life they are too young yet, to control and call their own. You remember with such tenderness that it takes your breath away... just what that felt like.
And you know. You just know.
 

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