Alma de Color

  A golden afternoon where the airy cotton clouds sway and slide across the azure summer sky . She twines clover and long, delicate stems of grass into a crown of curiosity, dreams, fancies, and a young crush interwoven in the innocent circlet of dandelions . “He loves me, he loves me not,” spoken in giggling whispers as she speaks her childish chant to the breeze until her sisters hear and laugh; her smile fades to shame . A birthday memory tinged with his embarrassed shame, under the great big sky in the shadow of the cliff and the eagle lifted by the breeze, and the boy overcome by his wild wonder and curiosity, defies security and caution to leap on the bare back of the horse, heedless of the whispers . The horse bucks and the boy is feral, clinging with defiance until landing among dandelions . In the schoolyard and in the corner of the playground, past the time of flowering dandelions, a tetherball swings violently back and forth and the boy cheers while the girl feels shame ...

(Image credit to Kristel Koukoua using Canva.com Magic Design AI Image Generator, 2026) I see you, Grief, sitting there across the room. Your shoulders are dropped and serene, Your countenance, hidden from me by your impartial cheek, I know to be calm, patient. Sometimes, I think I've moved on from your visits, Healing and processing each new loss with experience, The deep knowing that we heal and life moves on. Then, a scent, a phrase, a taste, a texture, a sound,  And suddenly, Grief, you look at me with those eyes profound as the caverns of the deep, The silent streams of sorrow pouring down your visage, And I am transported to those moments, Those scenes from days gone by. Sometimes, the memories are mixed with pain and hurt. Sometimes, they spark deep joy and laughter. Sometimes, they feel like a sharp, twisting dagger point. Sometimes, they smolder and burn with leftover anger at injustice. Once the torrent passes and the droplets, too, have ceased, Grief, you smile at me wit...

Perhaps finishing my last entry with "The end." was a bit dramatic. But I'm still struggling with letting that chapter of my life go. Strange how we cling to now-deceased fragments of things made irrelevant by the present. It's not as if life will never again be that good. Yet, my heart still aches at times as though I were grieving the death of a loved one. I've cried more over this change of location more than anyone I've lost. Doesn't seem right, but I guess it is what it is. Now is the time for my story of "now". Lee picked me up from the airport that frigid night of November 22 nd . I met up with some Bozeman friends the following morning, and happily packed into an already-stuffed carpool in the afternoon that got me as far as Butte. Jerrit brought me the rest of the way to Divide. I surprised everyone! It was fun to see the look of dumb shock on each face I encountered. A LOT of prep work and vague responses went into achievi...

Once again, I was blogeligent , and therefore am WAY behind in my entries. I pity your poor eyes. Only read if you have a super good cup 'o something tasty and are seated very comfortably. :-) Here we go.... Entry from 11-12-10 If 7 weeks seemed like too short a time, then 9 days might very well kill me. Way back in October, I spent Natasha's last day here climbing the water tower, making cookies that mostly never made it to cookie status, and drinking large quantities of tea. The next day, I escaped early from a delightful dinner with the Rumbaughs ' and practiced violin for almost an hour with practically no one in Staff Housing, (they were all still at the Rumbaughs '). I played fútbol three days in a row that weekend, had a great movie night/chat with Samuel, and moved out into the community with Joelle. She and Christine asked to take care of Rigo's and Christy's house until they get back in January. Christine was still in the States, though, an...