Callie loved the wooden gliding chair on the front porch. It was her favorite place to read and sip hot tea, and to smell the air after it rained. The rhythm of her rocking soothed her heart, and brought her mind back to the double glider she and Anna had loved as kids. Today it was her refuge from feeling like Sisyphus, rolling boulders uphill again and again.
This was the forty-second winter Callie had witnessed melting into spring. She felt joy as her iris friends came up again, purple and blue, with their orange and white fine line drawings at the base of each petal. She liked to imagine an insect-sized artist, with his sharp colored pencils, creating flowering masterpieces.
Callie was in need of a blooming. She had been working relentlessly, planting seed after seed, and trusting that some of them would find fertile ground. She was busy and brave, and weary to the bone.
Callie needed to fill herself up. She craved time in the woods. She missed the sound of water rushing over rocks. Her heart needed to splash in puddles and giggle like a kid. Her spirit needed a good solid meal.
Callie treasured her time on that old wooden glider. It was her front porch vacation. The rocking motion took her to a place where her spirit could rest, and dream, and bloom again…
(Please leave a comment about where you find your "old wooden glider," then check back in. I always post a response, and I love hearing from you!)
This was the forty-second winter Callie had witnessed melting into spring. She felt joy as her iris friends came up again, purple and blue, with their orange and white fine line drawings at the base of each petal. She liked to imagine an insect-sized artist, with his sharp colored pencils, creating flowering masterpieces.
Callie was in need of a blooming. She had been working relentlessly, planting seed after seed, and trusting that some of them would find fertile ground. She was busy and brave, and weary to the bone.
Callie needed to fill herself up. She craved time in the woods. She missed the sound of water rushing over rocks. Her heart needed to splash in puddles and giggle like a kid. Her spirit needed a good solid meal.
Callie treasured her time on that old wooden glider. It was her front porch vacation. The rocking motion took her to a place where her spirit could rest, and dream, and bloom again…
(Please leave a comment about where you find your "old wooden glider," then check back in. I always post a response, and I love hearing from you!)
(My sister, with her kind permission, on our old wooden glider...)