Happy November 1st and happy NaBloPoMo.
Normally, I try my hand at writing at: (http://sunshinesparx.typepad.com/jowritesdown). This is my first BlogHer post. I talk about many things when I talk and when I write that don't seem to have an apparent connection. My poor punctuation skills are evident and I'm in love with the comma for some unknown reason...
If you can handle a woman who talks in stories? You are welcome to keep reading.
Give me something: a color, a touch, taste, or song and I wander off. Lost in the fields of memories old and new. Each memory to me, is as tangible as a falling snowflake in the gentle air of night. It's unique and fully present in its beauty and then it slips my grasp the tighter I hold on. My professors used to say I must have been a Griot, an African story-teller, in a past life.
My favorite memory is the best dream I've ever had. In my dream I'm clothed in white, soft, flowing fabric. I woke in a white canopy bed in a white room to the tiny sound of ticking at the balacony window. When I walk over to the balcony I'm filled with fear and trepidation. I take a deep breath and open the balcony doors and in flooding the room are bright yellow canaries twilling that sound like the soft, sweet chorus of a quiet waterfall.
Upon their entry whatever anxiety I've felt is abated as quickly as it first arrived. I can smile, breathe and laugh. After that I woke-up. I wish I could get the same restful sleep as then. I don't even remember my dreams lately. This dream was at a time in my life when the waking world was on fire with possibilities. Maybe I've never repeated this dream because the promise of living beauty, comfort and love are lost to me now.
When I look at myself I barely recognize the woman I've become. I wonder if it's too late for change and that's when I like to think of the canaries the most. Back then, the signified a time of optimism and change to come... So, sweet dreams. May you find your own bird of happiness.