The edge. The letting go. The possibilities. My first solo flight.
A toast to everything that held my hand; held me together; provided security.
But this is the time of whatever, whenever.
I’ll trust my wings, my heart, my desires.
Salud!
(PS: Written nine years ago today, I sat in a candlelit bar, having walked out of work for the last time. With a drink in hand, it was a dark and rainy day. I was alone in my reverie. Tears of joy, of fear, of the unknown? Looking back, I have no regrets.
I finally retired in October 2014. My sister, Kristi, had retired about a year before me. One day we met for coffee at an intimate cafe in Woodstock to celebrate.
Kristi’sMine
We bought these cups as a symbol of our promise to be companions as we aged, to take trips together and maybe even one day to live together. Little did we know that within just two weeks, she would die in a terrible car accident.
Two days ago I was drinking coffee out of my cup and I thought about these promises we made to one another. I wondered if Kristi’s kids had found her cup amongst her things.
I sent them a message and in a short time, I got a message back from Sharon, her oldest daughter, with a photo of the cup saying that she drinks out of it often.
I cried for loss but also for gladness. A girl could not have had a better sister. My memories of her span 64 years, so they are many.
When she was only 3 years old, and I was only 5, I contracted polio, and for the rest of our time together, she did for me what I could not do for myself. She was my confidant. She was my buddy. She was my heart.
I miss her so. When I drink from her promise cup, my heart fills to overflowing. I’m so happy to know that my promise cup to her still exists.
eyeamdust 