Thursday, 2 June 2016

Un-tethered

My first trip abroad since my mother has died. Everything feels different. On arrival, my orientation is no longer an unmixed excitement that pulls my gaze out to the landscape while simultaneously resonating as a sense of home in my soul.

Now, the pull is back towards a different home - back to the cottage; back to the woods and fields of West Sussex; back to the untended grave.

I have no idea how long this feeling will last or where it will  come to rest in my being. Will it occupy a small or large portion of my consciousness? Will it feel peaceful or sad?

It is raining here in the Pacific Northwest - a fine rain that reminds me of home. The colours are muted; the trees soak in moisture in silent gulps; the clouds lower their eyes to the ground.

All relationships need to be re-made.