Resurrection

I think it's beginning. After two months here (or mostly here), I think it's starting to happen. Yesterday I left Wisconsin with a sense of the old life, form and rhythm in shambles around me, but also the very first glimmers, deep underground, of what might be waiting to emerge.

The one consistent grief is missing my daughter. I would rather be right there, part of her life, even though it's so volatile at times.

That grief has to let go of the house, so it can move on to its next family. I need to start feeling that process, cleaning out for good, handing over keys, saying goodbye. Not feeling the weight of responsibility there anymore.

Somewhere it is perfect that I landed here at the cusp of winter; early darkness the invitation to snuggle in. Snuggle in me but move with it, too. Sort through the debris, pick out the glimmers. Huge work to be done while the mountains stand guard.

Is this what happened in the cave, with the boulder rolled in front of it, for those 3 profound days?