Awakening from her unholy sleep she parts the earth and rises to greet the night. With a wave of her hand she covers her body in a gossamer gown of white. Shaking her head, her thick black hair, the color of coal, swirls around her waist, settling in gentle waves..
Her skin looks as though it is made of the finest marble, the color of alabaster.. Her lips are full, blood red, turned up at the corners in a deceptively come hither smile. A beauty that is unrivaled. But it is her eyes that draw you in. Surrounded by thick, long black lashes, large, luminous.. And the color, the palest of grey… And so very deadly
Roaming the night in a shroud of fog, she appears to float above the earth, angelic in appearances.. Blending with the mist, you never see her coming until she’s standing before you. But by then it’s too late. As you stare into her eyes she draws you to her, resistance is futile. The last thing you see is the curve of her lips as she kisses yours, drawing your soul away from your body, greedily taking it for her own..
So on this Halloween eve, be very mindful of where you roam and who you meet.. For it may be your last..
Peace.. A feeling inside your soul that tells you everything is alright. A lightness, a calm.
Yet the feeling seems allusive, distant.. We strive for it, pray for it, even beg for it.. Yet we can’t seem to grasp it.
Funny thing is it’s ours for the taking. Our gift from our higher power. We don’t need to fight for it, we just need to let it be..
Peace…a state of being that allows us to give love, share love, accept all that is in a oneness that eclipses all else.
A way of being, a deep cleansing breath..
Letting go of strife, of stress, of pain and worry.. A calm inside like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day.. Or the quietness of a pink and orange sunset reflecting itself on a still lake…
Peace.. The touch of your Angels as they wrap their gossamer wings around a troubled heart.
Peace.. Ours for the taking..
Let it be…
She was a self made woman with a successful business, a husband, and two beautiful kids. The house she lived in was paid for and she wanted for nothing. Yet… She always felt like something was missing, a hole in her heart that she just couldn’t fill.
She knew her parents loved her, but even with all the love they gave her she still had this feeling, this emptiness. Not understanding why, she kept it to herself for all these years. How can you explain or ask questions about something that made no sense to you let alone try to explain to someone else. So when the box showed up at her doorstop early this morning she was very surprised to say the least. Wrapped in simple brown paper, tied with twine, with a small white envelope taped to the front, her name neatly printed. With a bit of trepidation, and admittedly curiosity, she untied the twine and unwrapped the box. Opening it she found a stack of letters with an unformiliar name on it. Opening the envelope she found a simple note. THIS WILL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING.
Opening the first letter she began to read. As soon as she finished she reached for the next. Letter after letter, 24 in all, she sat and read until she finished the last one. With shaking hands she dropped the final letter in her lap. Taking a steadying breath she closed her eyes and let the tears flow. Now she understood..
The moving trucks had left an hour ago and there was only one thing left to do. The final walk through. Taking a deep breathe she turned the doornob and pushed the door open. Stepping inside the house for the last time caused a painful tightness in her chest, but she breathed through it and continued on.
The only sound that could be heard in the now silent house was the staccato clicking of her heels as she walked through the now empty rooms, looking for anything that might have been left behind.
Room after room, nothing but silence, emptiness. “Almost done ” she thought. The hardest room to enter was left for last. Walking the last few steps,she turned the corner and entered the kitchen. Ah, the heart beat of the house, the one room where most of their lives were lived.. Now that too lay silent..as did the one person who was the heart of the family.. mother.
Standing in the doorframe, looking around, she spots something hanging on the back of the pantry door. Walking across the room, she recognizes the faded flower print. With a shaking hand she reaches out for material and lifting it off the hook, she presses it to her chest and lets the pent up tears finally fall. Her mothers apron… The one she always wore. The memories of all the dinners, holidays, family get togethers, mid night talks, big moments, little moments, every moment spent.. all flashed through her mind like a movie. And in the center of it all, was the heart of the family, her beloved mother and her flowered apron.
As the light began to fade, and the memories came to a stand still, she continued to hold the apron. It was as much a part of this kitchen as it was her mother.. Both now gone.. Walking back to the pantry door, she hung the apron back on the hook. Turning on her heel she slowly walked away, never looking back, leaving the now silent house to its peace.