(In memory of Charley, my sister of the heart Lisa's, beloved companion, who will forever be on the other end of her heart tether, both held and free.)
How does one feel both free and held? It’s an alchemy, a force so much greater than one can imagine, yet it’s the strength of the tether and the wind that still rattles, shakes, rolls and guides me today.
As I reflect upon my childhood growing up, the youngest of three like a wild mushroom left to her own devices often or so she thought. I freely roamed an acre of gorgeous land that was my home where every brown and furry tailed squirrel had a name. I scurried up trees and had a secret one that I could nestle within the branches and no one could see me. My sister and I had buried glass pop bottles with notes inscribed upon them, a time capsule. It’s where I experienced my first “mud facial” with actual mud comprised of sticks and little rocks that my sister told me to vigorously rub onto my face. Oh, the joke was on me when my red flushed cheeks were the result, rather than the silky skin she had promised.
What I didn’t know, yet I did feel and caught glimpses of was my mother’s face in my brother’s bedroom that overlooked our backyard, being the watcher. She was my tether, my North Star, and because I knew she kept vigil it brought forth a courage to explore and expand even further than perhaps I might have? She was my watcher, and never did she open the window to say anything, yet I’d catch a smile and sometimes a wave of delight to just keep venturing, yet remember, my tether was there and a constant if needed.
I found myself doing the same with my two as they explored and embraced their own adventures. It was almost as if I had a silent alarm within that alerted me as to when it was time to check. Imitating what I had observed my mom actively engaging in decades ago. Close enough, yet from afar. I wonder if they noticed this as I once did?
The large windows of the school library where I volunteer weekly face out onto one of the playing fields for the students. I go about my work in the library, yet I find time weekly to become a watcher once again from my silent, still perch. I have noticed the children grow into bigger versions of themselves with glee. Still reminiscent of the nesting dolls of their younger selves and witnessing this bright version of them as they are today. I’m a watcher and often what I witness is only for me, yet there are stunning moments begging to be shared and I do so with gladness.
Forever being watched and a watcher. Both held and free as the tether lengthens each year. Remembering there are those on the other end of it anchoring it to their hearts, a heavenly mooring.
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