Come Home

No recipe today. I’m getting a flu . I hope this will do.

When I wonder where love is I remember this.

Love is in the way I soak the oat groats and simmer them slow, sprinkled in sea salt and fresh cinnamon, it shines from my eyes when I listen. Love is on the raindrops on the unfurled lily, it’s in the rose buds I threaded and hung one by one. It’s in the time I take to warm my face in the afternoon sun, it’s in every meal I make, every bath I take and in every morning I wake.

Love seeps in through the back garden gate; sticky with residue, it leaves footprints from the honey pot, and floats to the top of my tea cup. It’s in the soft rasp of my throat; it resonates clear and sublime. It’s in the careful folds of the linens; it billows in the wind, tethered to the clothesline. Love is buried deep in the soil and shoots up towards the sky through spikes of lavender and garlic scapes, it oozes from tree bark, and gently washes over polished stones. Love is in the soap brush and my dirt covered hands, it’s in my smile when children are near. It’s in my tears when the sun alights through rain and I cannot contain the weight of such beauty. Love is in the fresh summer thundershower and where the crows congregate in the golden hour.

Love is in my heart when I turn away from old ways that continue to bruise me, it’s in my letters and when I reach out to my community. Love lies under the disappointment of loss, because there is so much appreciation for the lessons you taught me. Love is there when we’re turned on and tangled and when we’re saying good-bye.

Love is in every good-bye for it is my true desire that we both expand larger and stronger with more to give ourselves and this world, that we find the treasures we came here to unearth, that we find wisdom and clarity, that we know our true worth. Love is in the letting go, in wanting the very best for you, wanting you to be beautiful and free, growing upwards, ever expanding your capacity.

Love is in the paradox of our desire to find it and share it; while it quietly sits in waiting, always there, all along, completely unfettered as we come and go, calmly just sitting there, as if by a fire waiting for us to come home.

 

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