Days before she died, Mom sat, legs over the side of her bed, gazing out the window onto the sunny street: "I wish it would snow once - just for me," she said.
I think that, too, sometimes. There is a longing in this dry place: when life is dry, empty. I'd love to see the snow then, flakes falling, silent, to the ground, the heavens shaking their down pillows. I'd like to be in that quiet place for a few moments, surrender my busy mind to it, welcome the holy silence, the emptiness - all that space. Mary Elyn Bahlert, February 27, 2022
4 thoughts on “Longing”
I know this longing too! Love the photo too
Thank you for reading my blog!
Lovely, evocative piece!
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If I had seen this post earlier today I would have taken a short video of the thick fluffy flakes that were falling and sent it to you