[The beaded moccasins in the bottom right hand corner of this photo were my Baba’s. They were made by a native woman in Fort Chipewyan, Northern Alberta, Canada. This actual moccasin style is called “old timers”. She acquired them when my family was stationed at Wood Buffalo National Park…now they’re mine. When I wear them I feel like a half-Chipewyan, half-Ukrainian beauty.]
Revamp
Now, I am that girl.
Brief Service Announcement
I talked to a best girlfriend about all of this, late last night, and we both agreed on a zesty life mantra:
Fight for good.
and the potential there for
good.
I’m going to fight for good days as best as I can.
The concept isn’t new for me, I’m generally quite the optimist, but sometimes I have to reclaim the truth of my soul vigor
with regards to how my life flows,
day to day,
especially when the bright of Robert isn’t here to make me laugh and fill me to overflowing with love and kindness
every hour, on the hour.
I’m fragile.
I truly am.
But that light in my chest is robust,
all conquering.
These wings turn gale force winds into allies.
Today is good.
I’m making it so with the help of a morning without rain, a good hard sleep, a trip to the farmer’s market, the story of Esther, a smooth latte, grapevines gone berserkers up and down the fence lines,
two bowls of berries and my loyal dog pack pooled around my feet, deep in a morning nap.
There are letters that arrived in the week that I have finally found a moment to read.
The jasmine, capricious as always, is about to gracefully thunder into scent.
I failed to tell you yesterday,
but I hope you have a weekend that is replete with comfort,
the heart swell that comes with the bold green timpani of summer,
a small flock of hummingbirds
and plenty of lime flavored drinks.
Over and out,
JSL