And the moon said to me, “My darling daughter, you do not have to be whole in order to shine.” (Nichole McElhaney)
A dream. I’m lost in an unidentified city. The car, a nondescript beige, is parked somewhere. Peculiar since the dream didn’t include a sequence where I got out of the vehicle, much less abandoned it.
Via the same skip-the-details transport, I’m back-at-the-ranch or wherever the other conference women are staying. And my companions interrogate me about my problem. They don’t understand how I could lose a car. Mine. Foreign maker. Foreign experience.
While they berate me and my foibles, I’m slicing watermelon. Not sure why. The slices mock bacon. The meat-appearance is unintentional as well. Although, strange, I’m the only person who notices. The primary focus is on a car left in a well-set-up town.
I am grateful to wake into my semi-dark, semi-light, far more predictable, real-life room. The space is small and will never be chosen for a magazine cover. Yet it offers shelter. A home. My husband reaches toward me in his sleep. Neither one of us is perfect. We don’t need to be more than who we are. We do not need to be whole to discover goodness and light. Then share what we find.
Good morning…
Good afternoon…
Good evening.
May the good win in both full sparkle and murky shadow.