Rachel S. Heslin
Thoughts, insights, and mindless blather

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poised for flight

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The snow has nearly melted from all but the thickest berms and shadows. For days, my thoughts have been accompanied by the music of water falling by my window as once-enveloping blankets shrank and slid from our roof, becoming soft and moist, huddling in corners and joinings before returning to the ground and sky.

I am glad we still have some snow in the drive. Otherwise, the (pounds? gallons?) that I shoveled would have less importance. In the yard, I have watched as the top of the snow became crystalline, tiny stalagmites glittering tiny suns until they, too, vanished from sight.

But not from soil. The bare dirt (one day to be a garden, seeds sown, flowers nurtured) is no longer wholly brown. Dustings of green, in patches growing daily, seek a Spring too early, too dry, yet still sweet with remembered snow. Some greens are grass, others what might be called weeds, but I do not care. My garden is green.

I, too, am emerging from frozen ground that is newly warmed and softened. 2002 was Interesting Times, and I have grown from the pain and changes far more than I could have thought possible. For a time, the wounds crippled me -- more the ones I dealt than those I received -- and I did not know who I was. I had lost my dreams.

But it is a new year, a new time. My husband has regained his sight and his self, more dear to me than my heart, which he holds. I, too, have started seeing again, looking outward in wonder at the colors and tastes which for so long had been grey. They resonate, these senses, awakening in me loves and longings which had been cast aside, forgotten amidst the agony and despair until they were mere words and shadows... until now.

Now I tune my piano, coaxing each note, string by string, to find itself again, to ring true to its soul and sing with me. Now I seek ballet slippers, new ones to fit shy toes that haven't taken lessons in 20 years but are going to do so again. Now I build our nest, cleaning, moving, creating a home for my love to find haven and solace.

Now I stand in my garden.

It is a good life.

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