*****...I am going to be okay.
I am okay.
I may not know where I'll be in a year. I may not know who I will be mated to. I may not know what vocation will fill the lengths of my days, but I do know some things.
I know about sacredness.
I know what I need.
I need to hear the rush of water. The rush of a freight train. An evening walk in March. A midnight cigarette while looking up at stars and feeling so, so small. A piece of buttered and jammed toast. A strong cup of coffee from a friend's French press. Writing a letter to a far-away kindred. Stained glass windows in an old chapel. Flannel sheets. Down pillows. Scarves. Mother, father, brother, sisters whom I love and who love and hold me. The one poem that ignites the core of my being to flutter. The simple, but always calming repetition of G, D, C chords played by my clumsy fingers on a flea-market guitar. Finishing a clean, cool glass of water and feeling hydrated to the bone. The clink and light splash of whiskey in ice. The flow and line from a truly good pen.
Of all these things, and many more, I hold and find truth, beauty, life. I thank God for my deep and often restless spirit and that heritage of contemplation that finds me pondering the subtle and simple mysteries of existence.
I am blessed beyond belief.
And, as my wise (and Irish Catholic) Rosemary used to say, quoting our risen Lord and Saviour, "to whom much is given, much is expected."
I have been given so, so much.