Brings to Mind (WC)

(June 23, 2021, Saint John's Eve, feast day of the above Pskov Caves Tenderness Icon of the Mother of God, the Meeting of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God, Saint Etheldreda (Audrey) of Northumbria, Blessed Frances Martel, and Blessed Mary of Oignies. Image from here.)

Brings to Mind

So we met on the Greyhound, that summer I was Canada bound. 

Native elder, he felt to be, just staring peacefully. That is until we 

got to talking, of selkies and snow bears and baby moccasins. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind.

That summer letters long and flying. Till back home it's in person, 

Thanksgiving. Joseph brings the bread and the bubbly, figs and 

dates. I bring exhaustion from all the prepping, no justice to his

shlepping. But in the end the funniest thing, heart it starts to sing. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind.

It's not that we lived closeby, he in Washington, I in Oregon. 

When I met an accident he zoomed across that state line. Just in 

time. Wasn't breezy, this caregiving. He assures me of his forgiving. 

It brings to mind that: process, it is kind. 

Inevitably, the merger. In our tiny home we linger, riverside. It's

four blocks long, this town. Days where fusses yet treasures 

abound. And it brings to mind that: 

                                                  process,

                                                           it is kind.

*From prompt: freewrite as inspired by Dilruba Ahmed's The Process; from Lisa Freedman's Breathe/Read/Write, June 18, 2021.