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A new gift from the universe, maybe
As you may have guessed, the intense cold and humidity of this winter has been very hard. I don't know if I can stay in the Midwest. I did leave for a reason, and don't know if I will ever recover enough to handle winters. There's improvement, but slowly. And I've learned that your body decides what to work on, when you recover from a long-term condition. I might have chosen a different path.
So. . .I needed to get more cream. (We all have vices. One of mine is a bit of heavy A2 cream in coffee.)
So I drove in for cream and two other stops before getting into the craziness avoiding a big fire and highway shutdown. It was a fast visit to the big city, as I feel bizarrely yuck. Probably another transition point in the health labyrinth.
This meant driving through some rural populations. As my stealth sedan crawled through at the speed limit for a small town main street, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. An elderly woman bundled against the cold, with a turquoise scarf over her head, strong Polish bones I knew from a childhood in northern Indiana. Darting into the street.
Momentary panic, wondering if she had stepped off the curb too close to my car. . .I glanced in the rear view mirror.
And she wasn't there.
Being that the street was almost deserted, I had leisure to look carefully. No sprinting elderly woman. No one darting into a building.
I have heard ghosts. . .felt them. . .smelled the scents that accompanied their lives--tobacco, perfume, cooking odors. But I don't see ghosts.
Until now. Maybe healing from this illness will change my kaleidoscope of the spirit world.
I wonder what was so important about her walk across the street that it is remembered by wind and winter?
So. . .I needed to get more cream. (We all have vices. One of mine is a bit of heavy A2 cream in coffee.)
So I drove in for cream and two other stops before getting into the craziness avoiding a big fire and highway shutdown. It was a fast visit to the big city, as I feel bizarrely yuck. Probably another transition point in the health labyrinth.
This meant driving through some rural populations. As my stealth sedan crawled through at the speed limit for a small town main street, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. An elderly woman bundled against the cold, with a turquoise scarf over her head, strong Polish bones I knew from a childhood in northern Indiana. Darting into the street.
Momentary panic, wondering if she had stepped off the curb too close to my car. . .I glanced in the rear view mirror.
And she wasn't there.
Being that the street was almost deserted, I had leisure to look carefully. No sprinting elderly woman. No one darting into a building.
I have heard ghosts. . .felt them. . .smelled the scents that accompanied their lives--tobacco, perfume, cooking odors. But I don't see ghosts.
Until now. Maybe healing from this illness will change my kaleidoscope of the spirit world.
I wonder what was so important about her walk across the street that it is remembered by wind and winter?