An interesting glimpse into how my mind works.
News of Richards death had this effect on me....
It brought to mind a conversation we had. Where after exhausting effort on both our parts I was able to look him in the eyes and promised him I would stay alive until I was 65.
Notice that no where in that statement do I promise never to kill my self.
Just that I promised to stay alive until I was 65.
After that the contract was up for negotiation again.
My suicidal soul that is damaged from the endless depression, had this to comment on the subject:
I am now released from our word bond.
I am no longer bound by that promise.
and the giddy part of me is thinking........oh the endless possibilities...
While the giddy part of me is thinking those thoughts....it will have its work cut out of it, as the words Richard put in my head/heart are still strong and powerful, and I will have a hard time ignoring them.
It's easy to visualize him shaking his head with that "nice try" look on his face.
I saw that look so often. A stop sign that he wasn't going to buy a ticket and get on my crazy thought train. After a year of so working together he didn't even have to say anything anymore, just smile and give me that look.
This burp in my mind will have to be dealt with while I am basking in the summer light and free of the darkdrag of the winter depression. I know I will see it again if I don't deal with it NOW.
In a way I'm a very grateful I didn't find out about his death until now. Had I learned this information in February during the full blown winter depression I would be sporting some new scars.
Safe in the summer light, I am able to process it better. Hopefully without feeling the need to memorialize him with a scar. He wouldn't want that for me.
I don't want that for me.
my mind is already coming up with the proper way to say goodbye.
Not a chance.
If you are my friend, I keep you forever. You will live on in my writings forever.....
She woke to find herself in a dark menacing forest. Gingerly and carefully she sat up. The dried blood on her scratched up legs a tell tale sign that she had been out for sometime. The cold wind nipped at her skin and the ferns poked accusingly at her. Her eyes scanned the darkness and slide shut with a resigned sobbing.
Slowly she laid back down, wishing to die. Waiting for the damp earth to swallow her up.
But instead her head landed in a soft warm pile of leaves.
Startled she jerked up and away.
*scratch* a match lite the darkness.
The tree smiled gently at her.
"who are you?" she asked the tree.
The old tree twisted and leaned over and handed her a single piece of wire.
As she took it, it warmed in her hand and bent into a frown. She looked up and again asked, "who are you?"
"I am the lantern maker." Said the fox jumping down from the tree.