2 minute read
finding treasure
Walking, connecting with nature,
picking up something meaningful,
a reminder of us when . . .
or evidence,
a clue—the idea of it,
in the smallest of things, a feather.
Exploring, searching, moving to keep going.
This meditative practice of mine, my morning ritual,
is when I see, in my reverie, how he saw the world.
And as I’m scanning the sidewalk and its edges,
rambling, drifting, daydreaming, thinking of him,
his sweet voice, his curious nature,
I come upon treasure then, a theather.
remembering when…
After he learned to walk, we went exploring up and down our sidewalk. I followed him, watched over him, shaded him from the sun, protected him while he searched for treasure, and filled his brown bag with acorns, roly-poly bugs, unusual leaves, smooth stones, snail shells, and his favorite, a feather, which he pronounced theather.
Before going back inside for a snack or a nap, I would hold out my arms and tell him, “I love you this much.”
And he would make big circles with his tiny hands. “I love you more than the world.”
And I would point up. “I love you more than the sun.”
“I love you more than all the stars and planets.”
“I love you more than the universe!”
And he would outdo me every time. “I love you more than all the sidewalks in the world!”
Excerpt from Willower: Rewriting Life After Unimaginable Loss: Chapter 3. Courage
still connected
And though I’ve wandered all the sidewalks in my neighborhood for years now, I still find pieces of treasure, interesting things, and the messages I need—the proof?— to know we, he and I, are still and always will be connected.
following our curiosity
Maybe we’re not lost after all. We’re just following a different path than the one we’d planned on taking.
No map or plan needed; just start.
Source: Keep Going Blog: Put on Your Walking Shoes and Follow Your Curiosity.
Keep going, willower.
I’ll be back soon.
Willower.org 
Every time I read your writing, I am moved! This one touched me, and I’m thinking it was in the book–but I could read it over and over.
Hugs,
Merle
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