The last post I wrote was January 3, 2015. A few hours after that post went up my heart shattered with a force I could have never imagined. How ironic is it that I wrote about the struggle to find myself in the "Two Years Together" post that day and then I immediately was faced with the most devastating experience of my life, my Mom's unexpected death. In these months following there has been so much on this roller coaster that my life has felt like a combination of a bad amusement park and the movie "Ground Hog Day" where everything plays back, time after time after time. I've had moments that lifted me in spirit and faith that I haven't felt in years, and conversely, times I was stricken to the depth of bitter doubt and distrust of everything I thought I knew to be true in my life. My answer is to fight!. That's what I have done in these months, I've become a warrior of being who I am now and who I've always been. Finding peace with my new reality. Here I am nine months later and I have begun to find my poetry again, my zeal, my rhythm. Naturally, at the base of that yearning for life and adventure to go places I've never thought of, is a dog, this dog Stetson.
It has taken me nine months to find the pieces of my heart that soar when I run. The first run I took a couple of weeks ago provided a deep soul cleansing and brought me a sense of peace I haven't known since returning from Hilton Head in January. It was like a crescendo in a symphonic piece playing my heart underneath the striking of my feet. The slow and methodical increase in intensity of my feet pounding with the weight of all these months below. I had to reach this moment, I just didn't know how I was going to get there, or where I'd go once I arrived. I know this peace is fragile, I will honor it and give space as needed in order to continue to move forward. There's poetry every where in life, but you must keep your heart open, even in the darkest of hours, to find it.
There he is. Stetson. That smile, the whine and shrill cry when the sneakers go onto my feet followed by the madness wiggling from his tail stub when the collar slips onto his neck. Nine months later, he hasn't forgotten a moment of what this time between us is. My poetry is here again, thanks for pulling me up buddy. You are my rock and my balance.
It has taken me nine months to find the pieces of my heart that soar when I run. The first run I took a couple of weeks ago provided a deep soul cleansing and brought me a sense of peace I haven't known since returning from Hilton Head in January. It was like a crescendo in a symphonic piece playing my heart underneath the striking of my feet. The slow and methodical increase in intensity of my feet pounding with the weight of all these months below. I had to reach this moment, I just didn't know how I was going to get there, or where I'd go once I arrived. I know this peace is fragile, I will honor it and give space as needed in order to continue to move forward. There's poetry every where in life, but you must keep your heart open, even in the darkest of hours, to find it.
There he is. Stetson. That smile, the whine and shrill cry when the sneakers go onto my feet followed by the madness wiggling from his tail stub when the collar slips onto his neck. Nine months later, he hasn't forgotten a moment of what this time between us is. My poetry is here again, thanks for pulling me up buddy. You are my rock and my balance.
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