October Center

It is the middle of October. Literally. Autumn is more than just fall, it's a phoenix in bloom. Glorious, bright and vibrant bloom. I hold my hand out the car window, windows all the way down. The last warm day before the rain, maybe. But I am not concerned. I am full of warmth. From little toe to bouncy brunette curl. Perfection is not achievable, yet does exist. And we can only pray and strive for that goal. Not disappointed in our inability to achieve it, but terribly joyous that we have such a lovely prize to run toward.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I used to say I wanted nothing more than to be a housewife in pearls with a mohawk. Never typical, yet oh so practical. Did you know that you're loved? This is the smooth sound of contentment slipping over your eardrums. Did you recognize it? Or did it just slide past you. I've written a letter and it starts like this... well, let's not be vulgar. We'll always have Paris.

Now what do you do when all your dreams are coming true? Do you write a script Walt could place in the vault? Or do you already know? That dreams coming true just makes room for new ones. Oh dear, the love pouring out of these fingers every moment of every day. This is leather-bound, or maybe vinyl. Something secure, sweet, and new - yet so simple and old school. I read Home Economics for the 21st Century Household and sip a light glass of absinthe while I listen to Skrillex v Adele. Smyphonous.

This violent dichotomy of all that we know is what makes this life so precious. So much unstymied evil - yet - an unlimited amount of the purest good and loveliness. I can close my eyes and whisper words of prayer, but it is the moments I am silent that I hear. Anything, anything at all. I know there may be confusion. I'll tackle it head on. I know that I cannot possibly understand. And yet, I do. What a beautiful disaster this is.

This bright blessed day and dark sacred night. Life is so vital and yet inconsequential. I can smile and shake my head as I listen to the soft silence of sunset. Oh love divine. Delight. I am exhausted by the sheer wonder and amazement of all this surrounding beauty. A line in the sand is so easily washed away. But the lines on your heart stay. It speaks to who we are, who we will be. Each line so carefully etched. Planned.

Sweet spontaneity in the limelight, sharing it only with an unspeakable good. I am glad. This is my life and it is beautiful. No more than that of the next person, and yet... so much more in my mind. Love, love, love. Unfiltered and unkempt. Messy but complete. Whole and satisfying. I am still here.