Witt's End

She was never quite serene. She was too opinionated, too determined, too focused for that. Lovely, always. Strong. But not serene. Given all that, she moved with a dancer's grace. In my memories that was always apparent because she was always in motion. Whether walking, cooking, typing with flying fingers on a keyboard, writing with the precision of a calligrapher, or eyes scanning a page. It was energetic, incessant, and graceful. That grace came from purpose, and it's something I've often tried and failed to emulate. In person she was quick with a smile. Engaging, easily shifting into conversation. Quick with an anecdote, a fact, knowledge, or a witticism. Small talk was never flippant, or surface for long. That purpose, that grace was there once again.  I was always at her feet as a child. Summers, breaks, so much time was spent at their farm. And I couldn't always be outside so I became her shadow. The island counter of their kitchen was my post. Or the kitchen itse

 Twice in my life, at times I've heard this.  "You've carried this burden long enough. All I asked, all I required was seven miles more. You've more than exceeded what I've asked. You've shouldered this load more than you needed to. Let it down.  Your nature demands you carry your share, and you take it to carrying any who fall. Your nature demands you help others.  At this point, you've given enough of your time, strength, help. Let the burden down. Rest awhile. There will be time to carry the burden over again." I don't know who else needs to hear this. But I know it's been a couple years of significant burdens. A couple years of hard health. And a time of heartbreak. Sometimes to keep going we have to rest. We have to let a burden down. We have to heal ourselves.  For a time.