A life goal should be to find something, somewhere, someone that makes your heart burst with love. The kind of love that shines, not shimmers, that moves, not mulls, that is hard to pin down, not to pin down hard. I held this sacred love three times when I gave birth. However, I find this same overwhelming happiness each and every time I step into this room of mine, but it has to be alone. Being alone gives me space to feel and see, time to hear and smell. Upon entering the cedar-built cottage filled with pieces chosen with love one by one over the years, a riotous cacophony of colors and genres that make no sense other than being knit together by the hand that picked them out, I stand entranced always, rooted most times at the door. This spittoon of a crab-grass covered rock laughs in the face of the saying “no man is an island ». Possibly true. But this woman? She IS the island she holds in her heart.
