Her note held no regret, just explanation:
The wind. I could no longer stand the wind.
Our union held three years,
survivors lashed together
living bent against the onslaught.
But she finally cut loose.
I do not blame her;
she did not grow up under the wind.
The postcard came months later,
sent from a languid state
somewhere downwind,
on a final updraft of grace:
I'm sorry. But I have tulips now. Love, Lee.
that painting is wonderful... is it yours?
ReplyDeleteHi, Kelly...no, its not mine...but how I wish it was - beautiful, huh?
ReplyDeleteThe words...so unexpected...but so meaningful and deep. Thanks, John.
ReplyDeleteHow can it be, after having been lashed together and withstanding the wind, that one could be so gracious as to see LEAVING so poignantly and beautifully...
ReplyDeleteand not take the next common step to abandonment and rejection.
I guess when a soul is so uncommonly loved by God, maybe there is not room left for the next common step.
Mother Theresa said, "Humility is n ot thinking less of yourse;f, it's thinking of yourself less"...
This reminds me what it might look like to think of myself less.