We create stories and stories create us. It is a rondo. —Chinua Achebe
*****************************
I have spent the afternoon sitting in the glorious July sunshine recounting her story—the days of my mother’s illness, and her final hours. All around me life springs forth, children laugh as they romp carefree in the backyard, but yet I sit talking, telling, agonizing, reliving those final months, dates, hours, minutes, moments.
It’s as if an never ending well of words has burst—they tumble, spring forth and continue to flow. My friend sits. She says nothing. She only listens. I ramble.
“Out of the ashes, came beauty,” I tell her. “Out of her illness and death came healing and new life.” It’s strange to hear those words come out of my mouth. I’ve thought them but not sure I’ve ever put voice to them.
My friend leaves. I retreat out to the back 40 again. I move the chair into the last rays of the day’s sunshine. I prop my feet up on another chair and close my eyes.
The wind blows softly and wind chimes clang together creating the rondo in the story. My thoughts drift over her story. My story. HISstory. Intertwined. Tangled together for all eternity. Beauty for ashes.
**********************
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – don’t edit; don’t second-guess.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Must: leave a comment for the person who linked up before you – encouraging them in their writing!
4. See here for additional details.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
This is absolutely beautiful! Painful yet beautiful. I don’t know your pain, but I know pain and I know hurt and mourning and trying to dance after…
You are doing it beautifully!
As heartbreaking as death is…it amazes me how God can bring about healing through that moment. I love your story. Stopped over from 5MF
thankful for friends that listen to our stories… and thankful that it is all HIS story!!
visiting from 5MF…