precious

i love that rhythm photo. the simplicity. the nostalgia.

(i got a nosebleed last night – made me feel like a little kid. oh to be read to!)

 

rhythm.

the cadence of this rain cascading.

the punctuation of off-beat staccato drops.

 

someone passed away. i learned of this last eve. oh the sad cycles of life. you can be aware. preparing, but never prepared.

 

and as i walked home last night, the clock read 1:23. the rain had stopped but the wind was still moving strong across the sky. the sound of the fir tree echoed down the hollow street. the world was wet and crisp. gloomy but alive. the watercolour reflection of the lights, saying: stop. and: go. smudges of colour on the sombre street. and my heart felt heavy. but i had that image of the tree. deeply rooted. arms outstretched. swaying now. bending in the wind. the storm rustling and ravaging. but the silhouette stood strong against this dark night. the natural tragedy of it all. the cycle of it all.

and as i kept walking, there were wind chimes. so many of them. making music of the ferocity. a gentle sound that stood in contrast to the intensity of this eve.

loss sharpens. and smooths. its funny how the world can feel at once more acute and distant. details coming into hyper focus. everything else fading to a blur. and you, existing in the centre of it. but also watching from the edges. taking it all in.

 

oh jules – i felt the gap of our communication. even that one day pause was noticed with each refreshing of the page. and so i wonder how this summer will be. how the distance will feel? will fill?

letters sent by post bring with them a natural waiting. a patience that is lost to instant satisfaction.

as my friend wrote in an essay about anticipation:

“We all remember handwriting a letter and posting it.
There was much time and thought built into that ritual;
there was time to stop the process if the words were
unkind and written in haste.
We were once familiar with a pause;
an all-important pause.”
– leslie morgenson

 

in some ways this summer feels like a pause. a slowing. (and that may be naive – because i don’t think there will be anything ‘slow’ in the kitchen – and the goal of planting is speed).

and yet. there will be the wisdom of trees surrounding. the reality of the seasons interfering with our plans. and the natural pace of life removed from walls and highways and instant notifications.

last night was a pause. a noticing.

this morning is slow, filled with the choir of raindrops on my awning.

and today will be full. but precious.

 

you are precious.

 

with you,

ruthi

One thought on “precious

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s