Take One More Step

He is gone. Where he went, I don't know. My eyes keep looking at the Bob-shaped hole in my life, wondering what came next for him. I do know he is free.

His funeral isn't until next weekend. In the meantime, there's a part of me that thinks he's still in his gilded cage, waiting for me to visit. In the meantime, as I plan my week, part of me keeps trying to choose a time to get out there. Then I snap back to reality.

These past few days have been an exercise in taking one more step. I want to just sit and stare, but experience tells me that is not a helpful path to trod, so I've been prodding myself to take the next step, to do the next thing. 

The weather has been helping; spring is in the air. This is one of my favorite weather weeks of the year - the week when the trees still look brown at first glance, but a closer look reveals a fuzziness at the tips of the branches where the leaves have started to peek out of their winter shells. The season has turned.

The world is moving on. It has not stopped for me; has not paused in its turning to let me take a moment to catch my breath, say goodbye, and begin to suss out a new shape to the rhythm of my days. (Hmph. I still think it should...)

Yesterday, the sunshine beckoned me into the back yard; where I spent a quiet hour starting to corral the growing things. I cleaned the grass from my flower beds, the volunteer flowers from the grass; enjoyed getting my hands back into the living dirt. 

Today, it took some doing to get me moving, to run my katas, to exercise. (The time change didn't help.) But despite my best attempts at procrastination, I eventually got myself outside into the morning air; reluctantly started to move. My first motions were stiff, forced. But then muscle memory took over and I started to flow with the movements, muscle and breath awakening with each step.

My skin woke to the sweet caress of the coolness of the morning air. My ears attuned to the bird song chorus filling the air. My eyes sought out the traces of green outlining the lilac bush.

For those minutes, I was in the now; that elusive state where neither past nor future is relevant, where what is, Is. When I finished, a bit of that meditative Peace stayed with me. 

I am here. He is free and so am I.