Saturday, July 17, 2010


He was lost to bird songs drowning out the morning traffic as her face came into
view. How lovely she looked all sleepy groggy, her hair had fallen from the loose braid. The braid was new for her hair hadn’t reached a length before. She was very pleased. They sat together close and both took on the sounds of birds around them, lost in the moment. It was only when the sun broke through the clouds and hit the cedars bright yellow that he looked across the table and found he was alone. But he was happy knowing she was sound asleep because she was still there with him. In an hour or so she would pull away for the day and he wouldn’t see her until he came home later that night after his shift. A day where they couldn't write or be creative and this saddened him.

There was a time, a short time when they first met when she was truly herself and he was no where to be seen. She soared in art and writing, felt so free with herself and him. And in her freedom and her exploring she brought him to the surface. She drew him out of the years of doubt and discontent. She let him see beauty and love. Then she brought him to her home and they lived there. He tied a loose braid around the doorknob so when he left separate, when she had already left for the day he could touch her hair just one more time.

He was startled by the alarm clock ring . The bath water roared, the day began.

And they will work and find the time to be themselves, no no, really who they are without the construct of a formatted day before them even for just a few moments. They will sing like birds drowning out traffic.


  1. you drew me in like a hand on a door pull with this, one word, braid, that will forever mean something more between us.

    this is a strange shot, the meeting of so many contrary colours on this threshold. it makes me uneasy in a way. the braid, it seems lost.


  2. all that was left behind. Sublime. =)

  3. and now with what you write
    there is no being lost, is there?
    this is very beautiful.

    you are upstairs now.
    i don't even hear the floor squeak.
    i will go to meet you.

    love erin

  4. Erin - On waking this morning I went outside listening to the birds and this little story played in my head. I took the photograph because of your braid. I wanted to expand on the shot by the story.

    The braid seems lost in the image to our large days maybe but is is there so we may see and feel it for maybe a moment.

    Funny how I wrote this story before I read your comment!

    I love you,

  5. we are crossing paths this morning.
    I laugh!!

  6. mmmmm, i so love everything about this all :)

  7. I was away for just a few days, but it seems like ages. What a beautiful entry to come home to. This is home, isn’t it? Yes, yes, I’m sure of it.

  8. OH William! - I hope you had a wonderful trip. Thank you for such kind words.