Who says you can’t go home again?

Well my father, for one. But I’m a good daughter. I didn’t listen. Thus began my journey filled with mystery and intrigue. Or rather, destination unknown, direction also unkown and I still didn’t know what I was doing! I was going in circles already but I knew I had to reclaim parts of me that had been left out in the cold. And I needed to discover who I was, what I wanted and if I even liked what I found. It’s been a pothole of a ride, but one I needed to take. There is no real villian in my story. But there are plenty of demons and ghosts and treasures found in unexpected places.

It’s’ been 4 yrs for me and WordPress. What a bizarre little treat to celebrate such an anniversary! I know how I have neglected the faithfulness of words and stayed in the background. Hidden and silent my thoughts were disjointed, discoloured and failed to convey my soul’s grief for so many things. I was confused and disillusioned and just plain tired. I did not want to play this game anymore.

So I checked out. From WordPress. From social media. From using words in any form. I checked out from people and food and work. I checked out on my marriage. My family. Even Netflix. I no longer found any joy in this game. So I Just stopped participating in my own life. I turned my back on it all and walked away – without taking a single step. I rubbed the stones in my pocket and waded in to my river, meeting my bottom as it rose up to greet me. I let it surround and soak me, it’s cool liquid silence playing it’s own melody; heavy yet soft and strangely comforting. And I stayed still….and silent….and safe…waiting for something I didn’t even understand.

I let it all go…..when I felt it. The tug of breath and the prickle of pain….slowly but surely I felt the pull of life and the strength of its energy. It surrounded me with its own waves . I could hear the sweet sound of a baby’s laugh and the buzzing of bees bringing the sureness of season. I took in the scent of neighbourhood BBQs and savoured the sweet, cold taste of ice cream on my tongue. I knew the salty tang of ocean water on my face and let the sun shine its blanket of soft warmth on my cheeks. I followed the beauty of distant skies, bruised and battered with the colours of storm. I loved the feel of hot sand in my toes and the lightness in my heart given to me by friends and family scattered throughout my life. I took in the breath of the universe.

And I started that scary, painful journey back. Not to the place where I had left a shell of myself. No, I was following a road I hadn’t seen in thirty years. The path looked the same and felt familiar but also different. Still, I put my ragged, frightened trust in that road and let her guide me through the switchbacks and valleys that a girl once knew. I listened to the whispers of weeds and the sound of rain on the trees and felt like I was breathing for the very first time. Perhaps I was. Sometimes the ‘new’ journey is just a backroad we find that takes us to the place we started from in the beginning.

I was going home.

TO BE CONTINUED…:)

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the river of my youth

I want to say thank you to everyone for reading my stories and babbles and for leaving words of kindness and encouragment along the lines and through the years. I also feel gratitude for all of you who write and share your own magic for us to enjoy; Inspiration comes from everywhere. Thank you for putting up with my caustic Irish humour as well as my total disregard for consistency! Some things never change.

This blog will no longer lie dormant but it will also not be the same. My journey home has lit the fire inside (sorry about the cliches) and my sidekick Mabel the Menace will accompany me as I search for our home on wheels and take to the woods to smell the flowers and feel the weeds! I want to get back in to the game. I want to leave my own mark on this magical place; a legacy of memories and wishes blown in to the ether. Just a middle-aged girl and her cat, living under the stars wherever the road (and Google Maps) takes her with adventure and menopause calling her name.

Dammit, I want to participate.