A new (heart) season

There is something in the California air that tells me I am a wife and I am a mother. In the cement, real life way of things, I am not a wife and I am not a mother. But the soft earth that gives way to so much life tills my heart. What froze in the harsh New England winter is thawing in the California autumn. Today we had wind and a chill and leaves swirled around my feet and dropped into my coffee. I walk through our sweet little downtown on the brink of falling in love. I wrap myself in my sweater, and notice my hands are lonely for a more permanent friend. My finger feels too bare; it is missing something gold.

And these were not thoughts that I intended to think. I did not intend to catch myself thanking G-D for the daughters I will raise, to imagine the stories we will tell to one another. I did not intend to be so tired of all this flirting, to be tired of all men except for the one with a beard and rough hands. And I surprise myself. I ask Holy Spirit to be my best friend. I light up at the sight of kittens and giggling little children.

I dream of cream gowns and red lips. Of lavender growing in my window boxes and bread baking in my kitchen. Of children laughing in the bearded man's arms. And even, of buying a bed.