Somewhere Between These Places

Somewhere in the moving Middle of our Blessed Hangaround Corners, I got touched. Deeply. Was it that story about that 90 year old lady making a start in full living? Was it the sudden disappearance of Agnes Heller swimming out into Lake Balaton. May God bless her. Or more likely this strange look of my heart Willemien. Some mornings ago, I found her sitting upright on her pillows. Writing down what the darkness of the night had brought her. Sacred gifts of inspiration for a writer surprisingly unfolding her creative nature. Such a marvellous metamorphosis unravelling as I came bringing her the morningtea. As I am up and around somewhat earlier. More sensitive for this silent morning atmosphere. Discovering new realities and possibilities. Ah this brand new day...Does it matter, dear Friends? To determine the decisive push or nudge that threw me into this flow. Not really...Anyhow Dear Admirer, Larchlea, Pkln, Pipersmom, Hibou, Danksound, Angelshare, Friedaquilter and You Unnamed, thankyou for your patience and daily attention. Comments, stars and hearts. For which I did not give some thankfull words in return. Reluctant to expose myself even in simple writing. Maybe you read this promise of a new beginning. Of a daring acceptance of life, so short, so rich in possibilities. And fortunately I may bare witness to this eternal Source of Creation. That came and touched me somewhere around here in our Carlsheaven. Touches me deeply.