The River Ran On

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It’s clearly still winter here. The snow from yesterday has stuck and drifted, finding all the nooks and crannies in roofs and on the construction work. Last night, we looked out the window, and the snow was literally flying horizontally in the wind – – – – – – – – – – –
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Sheets of snow. I’m meeting a friend for coffe this afternoon, which means trudging out into it. My impulse is just to stay in bed, but we can’t hibernate forever. Despite the snow and the clear signs of winter, the sun was out yesterday for more than half of the day. I watched the snow melt, dripping down, seeking out the path of least resistance. In the book I started reading yesterday, someone says: “The birds played, the flowers breathed out their fragrances, the river ran on into the heart of God, the sky was clear and sent down fine spangles of diamonds, and dreams floated past, and the forest sang…”

Last night, I dreamt of a man who could be my father, a father I chose, a father who taught me and loved and supported me. Why isn’t there a place where we can find replacement parents as adults? Why can’t I find a man to adopt me, not to romance me, but to keep me and guide me? I still have so much to learn. I have enough romance. I want more family.

Good morning, T.

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One thought on “The River Ran On

  1. Pingback: Only Poetry Isn’t Shit | Awake & Asleep

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