Driving the I-90 bridge, I tighten. My heart constricts. Drip, drip—calcium deposits in another joint, building my armor of protection. I remember when we were young and driving East. Wild and carefree. The mountains were magnetic. Traffic moving, at breakneck speed. I was driving the orange Datsun. Flying along, weaving between lanes. When BANG!…the little vehicle tilted around me, still plowing along but now sparks were shooting from the back left side. What the hell?!
No wonder I am vigilant.
Here I am, decades later. The nuts on this car are tight; the wheel won’t come off. Still, I tense, remembering. Now, my friends are the magnets. I whizz through fog to the lake’s edge, then the forest. The chance to ponder and write on this gorgeous morning shines, like a jewel. Sharing splendor is compelling. Deep joy is worth any risk.
2 thoughts on “Merciful Island”
Deep joy on the lakeshore rimmed by forest and deep joy in your presence. As the Haundenosaunee Thanksgiving Address says after each prayer “Now our minds are one.” Shining, shining 🌟
That was a lot packed into a small package. Bravo!