A Place

Do you have that one place, a place that means to you more than could easily be put into words? I am sitting at mine right now. I wrote once before about knowing that you found love, on how I often think about an empty white room, if that was all we had for a moment, would I be happy right there with him ?

But life is not an empty white room, it is each-others lives we step into.

I used to climb up on a big rock when I was little, my thinking rock. Here I would make everything from potions to soups in the nooks and holes of its surface, collect and store pieces of twigs and stones and look at all the formations while sitting on its back. But most of all this was a place to think, to calm down; to gather myself.

For some time now there has been a pier surrounding this rock, I am resting my back against the bench, the bench is carved to hug the rock.

My parents often sit here, during every season, whether it is winter, fall, spring or summer. It is not too windy, its not too far out in the open.. It is a place that gives you just enough secludedness to hear all sounds. Waves and the whispering as the reeds dance with the wind. This is no mindfulness playback tape, this is called lucky.

This is a place I often go back to in my mind when I think of you, when I meet someone, would they fit in here, would they be happy here ? And no I do not mean to be here forever, living out here all year around is rough, and could get quite boring easily. But could you sit right here? Could you have a cup of tea, or morning coffee brewed and taken with in a thermos as the frost is in the air and ice has covered the shoreline ? We could talk about something, anything, or we could say nothing, talking without words is sometimes the best kind. I would like to be here with you.