Hobbling Hopefully

I am sitting in the coffee shop. Austin Java – a rather hip Austin spot. They have good egg tacos and hot green tea, so I am here. Two old women have just hobbled in on their walkers, and I see the wisdom in their faces. I start to cry because I have been considering my grandmothers, their lives and their passing, already this week. Me Maw and Nanny, they so shaped me. I have always valued old people and their stories, even since I was a child. Maybe because my grandmothers told me stories, sang me songs, taught me to read, shuck corn, and feed the chickens. Someday, I too will hobble, hopefully with wisdom and grace. Sometimes, our work is remembering.

What are you remembering today?

Returning to The River

I spent a great deal of my youth at the river, the Frio River. It is cyrstal clear and cold as the name suggests. I recently returned to the Frio and spent some time with my feet in the water. Sitting and staring at the minnows nibbling on my toes makes me feel deeply connected to the earth and to my life. I remember; I dream; I feel. More importantly, I am still and I feel the sun. This river runs through me. It links my past and my present. I sat in this same spot with my grandma before I can even remember. My time at this river always gives life. It even saved my life once. Water can do that. Healing and cleansing the river runs. It takes the things that need to go and mixes the old and the new to gives us a type of newness.

Sometimes, we need to return to the things that feed us.
What feeds you?