Echoes

The evening is windy, scented and warm, the sun setting in luminous orange. With all the recent rain, nature is lush, green and vibrant and seems to be reaching for the sky itself. In a little corner of my garden, under a large rock, my sweet Bondi lies in eternal sleep, no longer stretching out before me in an inviting way.
Sadness lingers. His glaring absence echoes throughout the house.

I feel lonely, too, lonelier than I've felt in a long time. It's the sadness...and three other circumstancial factors that I fully identify but won't name here.

It's a beautiful, peaceful evening. I've so many things to be grateful for.

I played a game recently and one of the questions was: "What makes you feel  you are loved?" After thinking about it, my answer was: "When someone allows me to cry."
Just that. Without saying it's reasonable or not, enough or not, justified or not, without trying to console me, cheer me up or change the subject. When someone is capable of watching me be in pain and not try to solve it or fix it but will just take my hand and keep company to my pain and I, patiently, without judging, until I am soothed.

Some people have done that for me, and I still know each and everyone of your names.

I try to be faithful to my moods, on this blog, to give myself the right and space to feel whatever is present at the moment...
Still, enough is enough, so I'll end with a quote from...who else...the President of the United States of America. Ladies and gentlemen and the in-between:

“It’s time for the human race to enter the solar system.”
GEORGE W. BUSH

You go meditate about that.
Love, Brig