Get up ma petite. I groan at her. Maman, why must I get up. I’m out of traveling practice, my body hurts, my head hurts, my spirit and soul weep. I’m so tired. Yep. That is me whining at the woman who only allows that for couple minutes. Cher, if you lay there much longer, George gonna throw something and I’ll get mad and even the gators will run. I have to laugh because for a small woman, she’s worse that the hurricanes when her temper is up. So I pull myself out of her bed and sit at her table letting her cajole me into food and coffee. I watch ad the swamp comes alive in the sun, listening to the birds, gators, travelers(some who know to go the long way around). I think on blood and what that means. I’ve decided is blood is actually chosen. Those who give unconditional loyalty, trust and respect because you earned it by just being. That’s family. True blood. Not those who came with the shared lineage, those who think it’s a given. Nope. Chosen. I’ve decided those who are part of my life and I’m letting go of those who’ve shown who they are. It didn’t really take coming here to show me that, but can’t say the peace gained in showing up unannounced isn’t a bonus. The mundane makes me physically sick. But the reminder that I have roots and those who love me heal me and allow me to sleep. For today, that’s enough.
Deuces