Gratitude. It’s in the Details.




The morning light that makes its way into my living room is, more often than not, pink.

Each day, the ravens circle outside my living room window, speaking in a language I know in my belly.

My belly skin has a scar that runs across its center from the Hysterectomy I had when I was 29.

For the slightest second, my lips caress the skin of his cheek, and our eyes meet unveiled. We are ‘us’ for just a moment in time.

Time ticks by on my bedroom nightstand.

I pull back the sheets and climb into an empty bed.

I meditate in bed in the early morning hours, sometimes falling back into the deepest sleep when I am done.

I take pictures of flowers for meditation.

There is a beautiful flower shop just down the street.

I walk the steep streets of San Francisco, with homes like walled fortresses.

The wall I am facing holds images and words of things I never want to forget.

My late-husband is always in my heart, even though there are days when he doesn’t cross my mind.

My grandchildren will never know him.

I once remembered everything.

My body heaves with a big sigh.

I see what is here.

I am grateful for this whole life.



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8 Replies to “Gratitude. It’s in the Details.”

  1. i wonder if i can make a <3 here,
    or to say,
    in a few words,
    how i seem to know your nervous system
    and the heart that keeps you so alive
    to this

  2. I am so thankful for your brave, beautiful, and heartfelt writing, Julie. You make me see differently and that’s what it’s all about. Today, from your writing, I am pondering those things we can’t and don’t want to forget, and how they can be walls at the same time.

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