Waiting to be Ferreted
I love you. No one knows what they’re doing. We make it up as we go along, some days easier than others. I lost my map, if I ever had one. No one taught me how to read it. No one showed me where to look for love, nor hinted at where to find it. Love was a great mystery. The Secret. Alchemist’s gold, hidden treasure, concealed in ordinary wonder, waiting to be ferreted, like squirrels and their acorns, forgetting where they buried them.
I was always digging in the wrong spot. Stubborn, I kept on, knowing, always knowing, afraid to admit the truth. Love waits patiently, trusting in your return. Time means nothing, space is amorphous, the veil is thinner than we think. Love understands your reticence to commit. “No hurry, no worry,” she says. “Take your time. You may have no idea where you’re going, but you’ll know when you get there.”
LBM 10/22/2021
