I wake at dawn, wrap in a blanket and head out to soak in the last sights and sounds rising up from this sleepy, hallowed ground.
Today is my last day on Hunters Road.
I nestle in at the little table, and everyone shows up for the going-away party.
The woodpecker provides percussion while the breakdancing goldfinch flips around on the closest tree.
Male and female cardinals dart by in flashes of crimson.
Throaty croaks come from the pond as the rooster, who has it right this morning, acts as emcee, announcing the new precious day over and over again.
The tiniest hummingbird floats past, and after a few attempts, turns off her motor and sits still on a low branch.
She reminds me of myself.
Chickadees, wrens, sparrows, crows, hawks—they all pass through with a wave.
The horses walk single file up to the field to graze, my beloved Shadow leading the parade.
I hear cows in a distant field and think of Abraham and my first months here.
Everything is about to change. And I know I am not alone.
All of us will live through a series of leavings.
Spirit takes us on a scavenger hunt toward our purpose, yet away from people, places and things that we love and that have altered us.
Ultimately these people, places and things accompany us from their new outpost inside.
Everywhere we’ve been, everyone we’ve loved—it is all still here, written on our hearts.
Over the years, the ink dissolves a little and becomes part of our cells, our blood, our energy.
It doesn’t go away.
It becomes one with us.
Yet sitting at the little table outside I wonder, Will I ever feel this way again?
Come to think of it, I didn’t feel this way when I got here.
I was distracted by the endless decisions of moving away from my home and my marriage.
But like the little hummingbird, after a few attempts, I turned off my motor here on Hunters Road, and I perched on a branch.
I stayed still.
And then I started to see beauty everywhere in the tiniest of things, and a great love rose up.
The more I loved, the more love flowed out of everything.
And it has me thinking.
Maybe Hunters Road is not a place, but a state of the heart.
Maybe Hunters Road is where gratitude heals things,
where grace finds us,
where change inspires us,
where hope rises like the sun.
In The World:
For a moment, be still and take delight in the tiniest of things. Allow a great love to rise up and wordlessly expand in a heart of gratitude. Take a breath of new grace, new light.
In The Heart:
Right here, right now, my healing and my hope begin.
Today may joy bless you. May hope inspire you. May love heal you. May light guide you.
My beloved writing window in autumn.
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