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Crosshatch

We had a good talk today.

I was standing at the sliding glass door, staring out into the world. You were preparing something to eat, near me, in the kitchen.

It was about something deeply philosophical, I’m sure. My mind was wanting to react defensively, but I know your challenges are only ever to help me to remember a broader, deeper perspective…that something I already knew.

I love you for that, and you smell like joy.

But I thank God you’re no pushover. And for that uncanny ability to hear me spout off, let me feel into it, then apply your graceful brush stroke, if it’s even needed.

A bird alights on a leafless tree outside. Winter snows melt and drip off branches all around. The momentary focus allows me to hear the symphony of percussive impacts, colored by a multitude of structures and surfaces.

Mmm, pancakes.

A deep breath, and a relaxed exhale brings be back to our humble little space. Gratitude. That’s the feeling.

Thank you.

© 2018 Trance Blackman

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Published in Journal Entries Scenes & Stories

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