“It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale.”
We all have our stories. We all have our mess. We all have our books on the shelf.
And we all have our creeks.
My creek is in relationship with the world.
Today the creek was full and swift,
Of:
-the low beeps at 7:14 to wake me up
-misplacement of my keys
-check-in call(s) from mom
-the spit up of goldfish from little blue's mouth
-passion tea, shaken with iced goodness
-the click, click, click of paper writing
-surprise hugs and taste bud bursts
-the cross cultural anomalies buried in literature
-the hello of rain on the windows
- the interruption of silence by songs too near
-texts with bub about hearts and fears
-beats of prayer and stranger smiles
-coffee whipped with light
-another "due date" prolonging inevitible
-knocks that make you snap back in
-cards tapped twice for good measure
-seeing lys come home again
-writing for sheer purposed joy
-and tomorrow we will do (a variation) again
I think there is comfort in the creek.
love,
m
Love this post. Love you most.
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