A worn path
Eudora Welty wrote a story called A Worn Path about a mother who has lost her son but yet she still takes the same route through a field as if he were still with her – mother and child matted down a path through the vegetation – the mother now, is incapable of leaving off the habit, walking along the worn path, forgetting the habit of love.
This morning, I walked through the park with Loca and thought of my life and how great it was before T, and now how incredibly expansive it feels with her in my life. My dream was a lover who wouldn’t put limits on me and I found one who held out her hand and beckoned me into an enchanted world where the yellow irises blooming on the banks of the lagoon seem more beautiful and I seem more beautiful and the world opens in dimensions I hadn’t imagined.
I thought about the love we share now and how over time the tie between us will deepen and a habit of love will form that will carry us through our life. And I hope to never take the gifts she gives me for granted. I don’t want to take her for granted because she pleases me.