Dusty Roads to the Heart

I sit here on a bench, in my beautiful "quiet place" I have left my phone, my facebook...anything that would take my attention...I have left behind. I really don't know where they are right now. The last I remember they were in the pickup and my husband has taken that somewhere. I can honestly say, "I don't care." Right now my mind, my very being, needs to find complete quietness. The place where I am seems like a little room. Its walls are a row of ceders cutting me away from life's stresses. I can't see what is going on at the house, the other out buildings, the road. I'm here alone, just me, my paper, my pen. The ceiling of my "little room" is the sky. I can look up and up and up, through the branches of those trees, up into nothing. Right now the sky is covered with a light skim of clouds. Not stormy, just enough to hide the sun. I set here on my bench looking up and I picture that same sky, dark and millions of stars are lookin

Have you ever tried and tried to accomplish something only to be told that your "crooked"? Have you ever thought you were so lost that you would never see your family again? I mean, so lost and scared that your heart is beating so hard that you just know that it will come right out of your chest? You have no idea what to do next so you just keep walking and all of a sudden...you're "found"! What a wonderful feeling! Well, I have experienced both of the above.  Really.  I have experienced being "lost" twice in my life time.  It is a helpless feeling, I tell you.  Well, it is kind of helpless also when you try and try to ski and you just can't do it...period...end of sentence!! My story takes place up in the Colorado mountains in a little town called Dillon. Our family had decided to go skiing over spring break. You know, something teens like to do so mom and dad say    "sure we'll take you" even if they themselves have never skied

There were three things that laid deep in my heart. Three things that laid there closed because I didn't have the key to reach in and unlock their doors. Those three things, that laid there year after year, caused unrest to my very being. They would holler out to me to please unlock their door and accept them. But I would not listen, because I didn't have the keys. For some reason someone else held that key. Each of these "someones" or "experiences" came as a surprise to me. I would never have guessed that I would find the key in those situations where I did. I am 63 years old and finally, three years ago, one of those doors was unlocked. I still don't know who held this key, but I was able to accept my mother's early death, and accept her family's deep love for me. Only a few months ago, my "other special" mother, in her kindness used a key to open the second door. She helped me to see it is ok to talk about my mother.