A Good End to the Week

Rough week that ended with a happy family celebration. One day can make all the pain and sadness dissolve, at least for me, to make the week worth it. My granddaughter turned 11 yesterday. It still amazes me how much faster time moves as we get older. I thought my own kids grew too fast; now, my little sweetie pie is taller than her mother! For the record, her mother is about 5’1″. Thanks to my girl, we ate some amazing sushi last night before they shut our town down … again. Needless to say, celebrating my family can light me up like a Christmas tree!

This week I would like to get back to writing a story I started over a year ago. Something that is a guilty pleasure for me. Stories and poetry and free writing. It releases a lot of the pain that is deep inside. It is my form of therapy. Sometimes, it is very difficult and painful to do and other times it is a feeling of freedom. Not knowing how my writing will effect my body does keep me away from completing a lot of the ideas in my head. Wish me luck though, I believe it is time to go back to my current story.

Here is an except of “Her Time” which started as a poem that I plan to expand on. I believe she has a story to tell and I need to tell it. Give me your thoughts.

Her Time

The older woman sat alone Underneath a breathtaking willow It appeared to be raining down around her Weeping, as it’s known to do Cloaking her in privacy

Around her is an aura of brightness She is dressed simply Her gray hair is loosely pulled up She radiates a beauty Not typical of contemporary measures

Her hands are sturdy They have seen hard times Prayed and wiped away tears They have felt sadness and love Hands that have held so many Expressed joy and pleasure Her hands are full of wisdom and memories

As I watch, her fingers lightly touch the blades Offering her story through her touch She doesn’t see me This is her time

I am unable to turn my gaze Feeling drawn to this woman Imagining her story Wishing to be a part of it Sharing in the beauty of her existence

Copyright © Susan Rigo | Year Posted 2019

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