Last year at this time I was deeply immersed in caring for my dying dad. All of the feelings and emotions very raw, bits and pieces of shock rippling through me still, especially his last days and all of the days lost, wishing there was more time. And now here I am, called upon again, caring for another one very dear to me, of my blood. I do not understand this calling. Me, who finds health and healing in the promise of a bird's flight, falling leaves, the flower's bud, a cresting wave, the breath of prayer. What do I know about administering medication? An ambulance going away with a loved one? Ashamed of feeling so scared in the presence of gray. So unqualified.
If I am sporadic here, or even a bit gloomy like right now, I apologize. You may even hear my call on the wind asking for your prayer, strength, love. And you may just find me light as air, the promise of the moment that I believe in with all of my being, present.
Right now a little something making me smile, black and white film that I've been shooting all summer. The thrill again of taking in rolls for developing and holding prints in my hands. For every roll of 36, ten or so that move me. Here and there I will share them.
Photos: 1) Maine 2) Maine 3) Public Gardens, Boston 4) The North Church, Boston 5) Maine 6) DIA
