mental wayfarer

I've always imagined grace as ephemeral, drifting light as a feather, settling peacefully on someone's shoulder. Or around him, unnoticed. Or seen, but not recognized. Maybe even shrugged off.
But I think "in the grip of grace" has a ring of truth to it. It's an assertion of existence, a shameless declaration of being. Because there is grace, wherever you look....

When I say "I love you," I give you a gift.
I give you a dagger. I point to my heart and say, "Here. This is where you can hurt me."
And I wait.

The piece of sky above the trees in the distance have turned from dark to a dull grey-blue. I scan the expanse, searching for my mother's spirit, knowing she's nowhere there.
Eleven hours ago, I was at the book launch of Motherhood Statements-- a collection of essays on mothers, motherhood and mothering-- where a piece I wrote is included. I was giddy. My first published essay! Friends and family came to show their support...

If you want to own her and keep her,
Read the lines below;
They are tried and tested tricks