I walked along with her this evening. It was interesting to say the least because she has no idea I am there, always there. She was a bit more relaxed than she was early this morning. She woke at 4:30 and at a little after five she was proofreading her entire manuscript. Oblivious to everything but the screen. I floated around above her, sensing something greater trying to come through her eyes and fingers and heart. What do I know? I am just here to witness her struggle on the gravity-bound earth plane.
She drove to Tuesday Morning and had a nice talk with the woman behind the counter. They hit it off immediately. It was clear as day that the two of them were vibrating at a very high frequency. Like dolphins they were clicking some kind of code and it felt good as I watched the interchange. She left with a pumpkin biscotti candle and came home.
She’s eating too much junk food. Tootsie Rolls and Hershey Kisses. But I think the stress she is feeling is a minor thing. She is very excited about bringing her book into the world. It’s like a baby for her. She has just now pulled the trigger on it and paid her publisher to give it the green light. I hover around her, knowing wordlessly that she is never without an astounding support. It breathes her and laughs her and cries her.
This evening she took the long walk around the neighborhood. The September light struck her body lower than the August light did. She raised her head to look at magnolia seed cones and felt a bit sad. Then she saw the old man out raking in his front yard. “I haven’t see you in a while,” he said.
“I just haven’t walked much in August,” she told him. He said “I wish my wife could get out and walk like you. She’s having knee surgery in two weeks. She has a big thing behind her knee.”
She asked for details but he didn’t seem to know. He just said that he wished his wife could get out and about. Said she had fallen last year dragging a Christmas tree down the stairs. She said “I don’t even put up a tree anymore.” Then she said she would put the two of them in the light and she walked home.
Back inside she got reacquainted with the TV and the couch and the kitchen counter. I wish I could say to her, “You are so not alone. I am here to catch you when you fall.”