After a rare day of 50 degrees in January and a drenching night of continual downpours, almost all of the snow has gone. Just a few white patches remain here and there, especially noticeable a narrow, winding, deer trail through the underbrush of young Pussy Willows sprouting up all over. Once carefully concealed by summer growth, it now stands out like a well-lit runway at night. One can see now where they go when nobody is watching. Nature has revealed their well-kept secret and exposed their life to me.
Seeing that deer trail for some reason triggered off some distant emotions within me, enough for me to take notice and write about it. It left me with a strange, haunting feeling that has been swirling around me for quite some time now. It is a feeling without words, it has no vocabulary. So much of everything I am encountering lately has no vocabulary and it has been frustrating trying to explain my feelings. I am feeling mostly ‘a floating through my life’ going on. It’s as if my feet have left the ground leaving me untethered and aimless. I almost no longer feel whole, like small pieces of me lay scattered about, exposed here and there on unfamiliar soil. I’d like to gather all the pieces up again and return to wholeness but there are no instructions as to how to accomplish this feat. It’s as if I don’t know where or how to begin to make these repairs. Everything seems foreign to me for now.
