My spirit arrived yesterday. With little fanfare, no baggage in tow. It’s home now.
The rest of me arrived last Thursday. A long, rich trip with my husband and friends–we saw and did so much that the two weeks were bursting their seams.
I go often, since my husband and I live an ocean apart. The details of travel are familiar. And this separation of body and spirit is familiar as well.
Arriving home from a distant place, there is an empty space within me, a door ajar, waiting for my spirit’s reentry. My impish spirit takes its sweet time, perhaps enjoying the glide of the Gulf Stream, communing with other spirits, or talking with God. I never doubt its return but the timing is a mystery. I must leave the door open and patiently wait. And I know when it has returned home, quietly slipping through the seams of my skin, settling into place, the door closing with a satisfying ‘click’. And suddenly, I’m aware of its presence-an unmistakeable wholeness.
“There you are”, I say.
2 Responses
This is so beautiful, you have such a wonderful way with words.
The travel thing… It’s such a mind boggle, to go in a matter of sometimes too many hours, from one reality to the next. From one place that we love to another.
So true, my friend. Thank you ❤️