Things come to me in flashes. Like blinking fireflies. Powerful, yet gentle. Ideas, feelings, epiphanies. Sometimes in electric spurts, like static electricity. The unexpected zap. A clue, an eventual opening, a way in. A way out. As I contemplate my blessings I am forced to consider those inner-most feelings. The ones that have been laying dormant for so long. The ones I forgot I had. Or was capable of having.I thought I lost them. They were congealing like blackberry jam on the floor of my heart. Waiting. They have begun bleeding out unexpectedly. In dreams. In the shower. As I write. When I read. Sipping my morning coffee. Like this morning, I answered four different questions in my head. Sipping away the uncertainty, scribbling the answers down, before they got away.
Gone. Poof. They go so quick if you don't net them on arrival. Notepad in my back pocket to remind me to remember. It's not over. It's barely begun. All this love to give and no direction. What the hell. No way out, I thought. It's still seeping. Upward. The jam. The fireflies. It's an odd thing, being so kept shut for such a time. It's easy to forget how to open your eyes. To realize you may have been sleepwalking. To be able again. To be received. It's not that I vanished. I think I just blended in.
The ideas keep coming. In their own time, their own way. A breeze hits me. Outside. Cold. More snow. A fat flake hits me in the eye. Another idea. Another zap. Something needs a change. I've tried several times but got lost at the source. When I realized there was still a person standing there I panicked. After a brief hesitation I offered a hello. It came right back at me. And I suddenly remembered who I am.
