Writings of Recovery

Soften My Precious One, This Day Loves You

I sit here, trying to wrap my head and my heart around what has transpired. The paperwork, the attorney’s emotionally detached correspondence, the closing of a chapter I thought was never going to end. My body is beat, my spirit stretched thin.

Yet, here I sit. The dawn of a new day. Asking nothing of me. Light streaks across the floor, through the blinds, creating a pattern that alternates the illusion of cool and warm. September air still holds a whisper of the summer breeze dancing with the outstretched arm of Jack Frost.  The air moves around me, reminding me to breathe. Just breathe.

I realize my jaw is sore from clenching. My hands are fists. I let the morning wash me in light and life. It does not ask anything of me other than my presence. In its presence, I feel raw, broken, yet at the same time, whole. What a paradox.

Softening does not mean forgetting or pretending the pain is gone. Perhaps, it means loosening my grip on the story of how I thought my life should be. As the light shines through the cracks of the blinds, so does it shine through the cracks of my soul.

This is an invitation. An invitation to rest. To just be. I do not have to fix. I do not have to strive. I can just let today be today.  I do not have to be strong. I do not have to know what comes next. I can feel the ground below me and the air above me. That is enough.

Soften, my precious one, this day loves you. Soak this in. This simple truth. Sunlight on the floor. Breath in my lungs. Air on my skin. Can I sit with this? Can I be lulled and fortified by the love that courses through these elements, natural and supernatural? I lean in and soften into the love this day brings.