High to low, look out below

The wind is no longer howling this morning as it did last night. Cloudless, still, gentle, cool, Mother Earth renders a hopeful journey for today, one which presents a tempered mirth for the joyous habit of being. Something to take advantage of with curious delight.

Some moments, I am in awe of how far I've gone on this detour, of which I, no doubt, began inundated with begs and warnings not to trespass on my own. But God presented me with a wandering spirit, willful and defiant, and balmy California, no matter how fruitful it promised to be, was never meant to be my burning prophet, my redeemer.

Fear of being ill-equipped to weather the storm--I loved the children and respected their father's love for them too--kept me in line all those years. And now, I hold a pang of guilt--though not real remorse--for the damage elicited by my break. What about the timing? Were the circumstances appropriate? My intention was never to be cruel, but it is my right to stand up for myself--not an easy stance sometimes. I've weathered the hailstones fairly well, better than the other, so I tend to look back.

Don't look back.

Sometimes it's difficult to explain to others that a girl must be allowed to grow up at some point in her life, that there is no such thing as "too late".

A son is your son 'til he marries a wife, but a daughter is yours for the rest of your life... So many ifs... and I am sorry for not living by this axiom. I wonder if you are too.

This juncture in time, this place right here, is where I ought to be. I look outside my window right now; the pressure is lovely and high. It's funny how the mind and the weather shift in synchrony, but I should not allow a nebulous mind to cloud up a promising day as this one proposes to be.