All I can think of these days is you walking, your sudden joyous sprints, your determined getaways, your sweet shuffle holding on to me, your limitless delight of flower, branch, leaf, raven, sky. Walks where you would work out the content of your mind, walks in silence, walks in whispers and the sound of our feet in the forest.
‘Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.’ Always ready for the next step. Insisting movement, radical motion.
And our moonlit walks, when time, place and relationship bewilder. I would forget mother and I would forget swami… you danced under the moon, so in love with this place.
Missing you, my full moon lady. Thank you for meeting me in birth, and letting me hold onto your heart in death. Thank you for walking beside me through this life.
Clea McDougall