Fifteen binders

Somehow it seems wrong to title any of my reflections. Someone may be predisposed to not take from them what they need to read. Take what you need. Release what you don't. May your life be filled with more than fifteen binders. May you not save those binders, but instead, fill your own, and then... give them away.

I have fifteen zippered binders

Of reflections,

Each in its own

Plastic page.

Then there’s the blog,

Some of which are in

The binders.

Most are not.

I tell my daughter

She may decide what to do

With anything I leave behind,

Even the reflections.

They’re all on the blog

She says.

Oh no they’re not,

I say.

What do we leave behind us?

What do we leave?

Everything encased.

Everything left.

Fifteen binders

Filled with life.

Everything does not fit

On a blog.

I know that.

I know.

Everyone has way more

Than fifteen binders

Full of life.

There is no vault

To save it all.

Today promises full

Hmm. Three clients, one new. Two cats. Full day.

Today promises full.

I realize as I begin,

I only count the things

On the calendar,

Appointments and initials

I have written

On the square

That is July 14.

Then there is the kitten,

Still a guest

In a room of her own.

Then there is the older cat.

He lies strategically

Between our bedroom

And the guestroom,

Sprawled like a king.

Today promises full.

We wait

Some times feel more full than others. I am grateful for this fullness.

I awake with the utter reality

The certainty

The authenticity of those

With whom I spent the week:

Eating

Driving back and forth

Texting single words and phrases

Caring over miles and miles.

Here I am with the cat

In our calm,

Waiting for the plane to land,

The cab to be taken,

The feet to walk through

The front door

To me and the cat

The cardinal singing its heart out

In the back yard.

Here we are in our utter realness

Our certainty

Our authenticity

Waiting to greet you

In yours.