The bones of this empty, old house have been invaded by the souls of rowdy people who had the audacity to bring a dog, traipsing around all hours of the night and day, quiet and loud at the same time with no particular mission in mind.
Creaks and squeaks awaken me, as I am not used to the sounds of this old house. I am used to critters in the night, tree limbs scraping windows in an eerie rendition of a horror flick soundtrack, and the squeaking and creaking of 160 year old beams…the sounds of my old house, 200 miles away.
With every raindrop of yesterday, I imagined a mud slide, irrational in thought but totally realistic in my vision. I watched the water run down the mountainside, pools of muddy splashes surrounding car tires and steps.
Hearing rushing water alarmed me, but the space fooled me into thinking it was nearby, when it was really far down the hillside, carefully contained in concrete and sod, doing what it was designed to do….flow quickly away to safety.
This simple place of refuge is quiet in the dawn, the muted sounds of morning quietly slipping in through windows. If I pause for a moment, I can hear birds and nature waking up, ready to begin another day.
The world is chaotic, messy, and discombobulated right now, wrapped up in the unknown and changing minute by minute. Survival seems to be made for the fittest, but I’m gonna give it my best shot and work hard to survive with the kid and dog intact, hoping my sanity comes along for the ride.
Here’s to sunrises over the tree tops, quiet places for reflection, and the strength of warrior goddesses encased with the fortitude of women who have weathered the storm of life….
with Glitter & Grace,
Sasha