Not walking, floating.

This is my favourite time of the week. Sunday evening.

The sun is just setting. The smell of roast weaves its way around the soft sounds of sleeping wife and snoring felines. Ah how things have changed.

We made it. Here to this home that is nothing like the last. Time can be spent here in many ways... but most importantly it can be spent in the ways of the living. Occupied by moments of hearts of pulsing and life affirming creativity. It is peaceful here. Because we make it this way. Our interactions and thoughts are positive and loving. The direction of our love and affirmation in toward the future. Our movement is bound forward together but not too tightly.

Sir has found the strength to unclasp her hands. So fearfully clutching the things that defined her being, so desperately being afraid. Letting go of the fear of being unworthy and unloved has been like turning on an electric lamp in a candle lit room. Suddenly all is so clear and defined.... including the shadows and the dark places.

But more importantly, the light has shown the good things. The way to stand alone but know one is not alone. The ability to walk in the parallel pathways of healing and loving. That the doors made of pain can be opened those dusty dark rooms aired... movement and settling where before there has been only tight constriction.

Relief. Comfort. Sleep. Love.