Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Light Up the Sky
It started as a tickle in the corner of my mouth... raising the edges involuntarily. It moved across my face, carving a hollow dimple in my cheek and leaving a twinkle in the deepest green recesses of my iris. It travelled the length of my body, across my skin and by the time I got to you - it radiated from the inside.
Like a firefly, I flickered, between mouthfuls of chocolate chip waffles. My eyes flashed at you over the table, and our legs pressed together as they always do. The heat spread from the palm of my hand into yours while you traced promises into my skin. Yesterday's stories could not call me away from you.
In the darkness of a near empty room, the world fell away. My arm crossed the length of your chest, my toes curled against yours. Time stopped, and all that was left was one breath between us - and we shared it willingly. The connection was made and we were powerless to break it.
In the waning hours of the evening it began to storm. Rain pelted down, fire crossed the sky on the backs of the angriest ancients, seams of clouds burst above me. And from the night you appeared all at once, flashlight in hand - rain collecting on your eyelashes - to kiss me one last time today. To protect me from nature's wrath, to secure our ties to forever. The electricity flashed inside the closing space between us.
You were the first, and the last, to wish me a happy birthday. After you had gone I let the rain fall on my skin, warm and cold all at once, reminding me. Once I thought I was transparent and longed to move among the real. Now I can barely remember anything but your love.
It crackles between us, around us, from within us - and catches the world on fire.
Like a firefly, I flickered, between mouthfuls of chocolate chip waffles. My eyes flashed at you over the table, and our legs pressed together as they always do. The heat spread from the palm of my hand into yours while you traced promises into my skin. Yesterday's stories could not call me away from you.
In the darkness of a near empty room, the world fell away. My arm crossed the length of your chest, my toes curled against yours. Time stopped, and all that was left was one breath between us - and we shared it willingly. The connection was made and we were powerless to break it.
In the waning hours of the evening it began to storm. Rain pelted down, fire crossed the sky on the backs of the angriest ancients, seams of clouds burst above me. And from the night you appeared all at once, flashlight in hand - rain collecting on your eyelashes - to kiss me one last time today. To protect me from nature's wrath, to secure our ties to forever. The electricity flashed inside the closing space between us.
You were the first, and the last, to wish me a happy birthday. After you had gone I let the rain fall on my skin, warm and cold all at once, reminding me. Once I thought I was transparent and longed to move among the real. Now I can barely remember anything but your love.
It crackles between us, around us, from within us - and catches the world on fire.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
I am honoured - OR - How I am completely humbled by the Universe once more
A LOOOOONG time ago, when I first moved my little thoughts to this corner of the blogosphere, I copied over a post I had written about cancer and divine intervention.
This was a pivitol moment in my life, where the intersection of fate and happenstance tripped into my path and it was proven, once and for all, that one person CAN change the world. Sarah Toller fought a hard battle against melanoma, and ultimately she surrendered peacefully. However, not without changing my life forever first.
A few months after her death, I was contacted by her mother about the post I had written. She wanted to use my post in a memoir she was compiling from Sarah's original blog, one she had kept over the course of a year during her illness. Of course I agreed, anything I can do to repay this woman, this family. And then I got busy with life.
Recently, I started revisiting Sarah's original blog and decided to search to see if the book had ever been published. It was, and I was soon to find out - my post made the final cut.
The wee paragraphs I threw out into the universe, as a way to say thank you, to say I see you fate, to acknowledge there is something larger than me at work out there, are now the Epilogue to Sarah's story. I have been honoured to be a piece of that life, even after the fact - and to have a place at the end of this book.
Thank you to Sarah's mother, who also recognized her daughter's hand in my story and wanted to share it with the world. I am eternally grateful to both of you - for giving me a shot to make a difference, however small that may be. And for giving me pages on which to tell my story - and the connections that are too close to be coincidence.
We are eternally tied... and I will think of you always.
DAG.
This was a pivitol moment in my life, where the intersection of fate and happenstance tripped into my path and it was proven, once and for all, that one person CAN change the world. Sarah Toller fought a hard battle against melanoma, and ultimately she surrendered peacefully. However, not without changing my life forever first.
A few months after her death, I was contacted by her mother about the post I had written. She wanted to use my post in a memoir she was compiling from Sarah's original blog, one she had kept over the course of a year during her illness. Of course I agreed, anything I can do to repay this woman, this family. And then I got busy with life.
Recently, I started revisiting Sarah's original blog and decided to search to see if the book had ever been published. It was, and I was soon to find out - my post made the final cut.
The wee paragraphs I threw out into the universe, as a way to say thank you, to say I see you fate, to acknowledge there is something larger than me at work out there, are now the Epilogue to Sarah's story. I have been honoured to be a piece of that life, even after the fact - and to have a place at the end of this book.
Thank you to Sarah's mother, who also recognized her daughter's hand in my story and wanted to share it with the world. I am eternally grateful to both of you - for giving me a shot to make a difference, however small that may be. And for giving me pages on which to tell my story - and the connections that are too close to be coincidence.
We are eternally tied... and I will think of you always.
DAG.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Simple Mornings
A melodic tone drew me from my slumber, calling to me before the day. In your t-shirt and last night's jeans, I padded out to my car as the sun slivered over the horizon. Pink and purple skies made promises for the day, and somewhere nearby I found you. You were headed to me.
Minutes later we were wrapped in pale sheets, sharing our morning whispers. My skin warmed your chilled hands, your lips woke my soul. We shared breath together, wound around each other. There seemed no beginning and no end to us.
We spent hours like that, lost in each other as the sun rose higher and silenced the birds. We lounged, fingers entwined, feet pressed together, before picking up our discarded skins in favour of steaming coffee. Two cups, two hearts, two kisses goodbye. In your t-shirt I fell asleep again in the space where you had lain. In the afterglow, I wondered if I had been dreaming all along...until I found your scent on my pillows.
Minutes later we were wrapped in pale sheets, sharing our morning whispers. My skin warmed your chilled hands, your lips woke my soul. We shared breath together, wound around each other. There seemed no beginning and no end to us.
We spent hours like that, lost in each other as the sun rose higher and silenced the birds. We lounged, fingers entwined, feet pressed together, before picking up our discarded skins in favour of steaming coffee. Two cups, two hearts, two kisses goodbye. In your t-shirt I fell asleep again in the space where you had lain. In the afterglow, I wondered if I had been dreaming all along...until I found your scent on my pillows.
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