13 Mar A Winter’s Cabin
Sometime late 2008, as my mother begins her transition, I look at the historical dynamics between my sisters and myself. I find myself resigned to the idea that we’ll repeat who we’ve been, disallowing her transition to become ours. Yet faith rides on my coattails, attempting to reach me.
I’m looking for a door that leads outside this torrential downpour of sadness. I want to feel the breeze of joy, the sun of jubilation, but I am in a state of winter. A winter’s cabin without a fire to warm my bones.
I am not alone. My sisters are here and so far we are in isolated corners. It dawns on me that we are together in our hearts, maybe that can be the fire that warms us, but not as of yet. For now, I am the lone daughter standing in the corner crying to the world.
My first sister is facing her corner pretending it doesn’t exist. My second sister is in her corner calling it something else. We are a dreadful chorus without an audience.
Soon our corners will collapse and our little cabin will become a stick.
I hope we rebuild something sacred.
warming the bones or burn the cabin
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