Grateful

praying hands

I write the thanks which pours from my fingers. The blessings given and not given. Gratitude. Gifts withheld. I write of the things I long to see more of. The tiny fingers and toes, the sweaty heads and grimy feet. The sunshine through a dirty window. Flowers making limbs heavy on trees. Smells of heaven-chocolate mint lip balm kissing my lips! Writing Down the Bones and being a Momma Zen. Starting to Romance the Ordinary and finding Simple Abundance in my days. Thankful for the body which does all that I ask of it and more. Feeling its soft spots and bone. It’s movement and stillness. The in and out breathe of my lungs. I write to let the whispers and shouts in my head out to play on the page with words and feeling. I cup stillness in my hand and feel it in my toes. Smiles playing on lips and fingertips itching for silk to glide on. Small backs to tickle. Hair to smooth. Dirty to wipe. All sacred. All beauty. All thank yous. Tears travel down my cheeks, salty on lips as blessings are remembered and forgotten. Letting the wonder pass through me and back into the world. Thanks.

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