I call this tin rabbit "It Wasn't Me". He's on the table where I put things I am not ready to give to Goodwill but not really ready to pack into a box either. Packed in a box means keeping it. And thinking about my son unpacking the box after I am gone and saying "what the hell?". Perhaps he'll just get rid of the boxes and not open them??? It Wasn't Me.
I had a "waking dream" this morning. Not fast asleep but not yet opening my eyes and being awake. G was being examined by a doctor who was being rude and unkind- I was about to stand and protect but before I could ---a stylized version of Riley flew through the wall and toward the doctor. Above the floor. Long legs, lovely body, large head. Beautiful. Almost like a ancient cave painting come to life. Protecting.
I told G what I had seen. Because I had felt that I would see Riley again (in his new form) and was anticipating the event. And now I had. Flying in to protect G.
Now the two of us have all three of our protectors. The Dog. The Warrior Woman. The Monk.
And I think It Wasn't Me will go into the bookcase after it gets painted in January. Staying.... not going or being packed away.
1 comment:
This post really made me feel good. Knowing Riley is good (gone but not gone), knowing you have protectors. Much to be thankful for. Even that tin rabbit. Wishing you a Thanksgiving of peace.
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