Today I Say Goodbye to You

by Lori Noble | December 30, 2015

Today I say goodbye to you. My warm soapy sponge sweeps across the the blackboard in my kitchen. Wiped away are arrival times, flight numbers, reminders to pack this and that, my trip in a nutshell now floating in a bucket.

 

Today I say goodbye to the soup that was us. Mornings of hot coffee, slow risers, reflectors, some bright squirrel like movements, chipper chatters. Toast, eggs, cheese, colored ceral boxes.

 

At the onset you could see this soup had potential.  Not too many peppers, some root vegetables, a variety of seasonings, patient, knowledgeable cooks.

 

It’s day four, lunch time, and once again, I find myself with the quieter ones.  A chicadee comes by with a sandwich. She is nothing like me, her bright eyes, gleaming smile, conversation comes easily for her.  We are nothing alike, connected by circumstance.  My heart is open, thankful to know her.

 

The crow, or is it a raven, watches me. She arrived as we passed the lake.  She watches me from the ‘pee’ rock.  I watch her.  We have spent many moments together.  What is her message?  I look inside, and find cool sludge, she is pointing to something. Pointing at what?

 

My adventure did not end when I turned my head then heart to home. I have consumed this soup for days on end.  It has nourished me, provided substance and matierial for growth.  The soup that was us is in my bones, skin, blood.  My heart is stronger, softer, bigger.

 

I scan the sky, and look to my feet, “Let’s go”.

For more on the trip that inspired this essay, click here.


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