golden

Saturday, November 30, 2019


Everything around me is golden these days. 

I drive down the winding roads that I know like the back of my hand, lined with crimson trees and fallen leaves, the warm afternoon light leaving everything tinged with a glow.

The world has been painted in red and orange and I'm painting myself with it, too, grabbing a paintbrush and tracing the colors up and down my arms. If I paint the colors on my skin, will they stay?

Whenever I can, I curl up in my little nook under the blanket from Jamie and soak in the light warming my white walls with golden hues. I work or I read or I just sit and watch the light dance.

And for a moment, everything is still.

My heartbeat keeps time with the rhythm of it all, the alarm clock ringing and the swing of the car door and my footsteps on the pavement as I trek the familiar paths.

And everything is golden.

I thought the hues would have disappeared weeks ago, but they're holding on, and I am, too. Autumn has wrapped her fingers round more tightly than I'd expected, but I'm not going to be the one to pry them loose.

I laugh with him and hug her and whisper stay stay stay as we hurry and move and run through our days. The boxes are being checked and the due dates are being met and I return to my nook of it's good. 

Then the busy stops to breathe and the turkey comes out and for a few days, everything seems to halt.  The world is silent but my mind is loud, asking question after question because it's never seemed to like silence.

I laugh with family and eat what would probably be considered too many forms of potatoes and I breathe in the quiet.

And then the next morning, I sit on my bed and crack open the spine of journals packed away months ago. My fingers trace handwriting crammed tightly on the page some days and scribbled wildly others and I marvel at all that can happen in a year. I think that oftentimes gratitude for where you are can only increase when you look at where you've been, and those ink stained pages always remind me of that. They remind me of how much changes and how much stays and of Who is in control of it all. They break me and they mend me, and their weight stays present on my chest for the rest of the day.

And everything is golden.

And I know that the gold is giving way to crimson and the grip is loosening every day and the light is changing. Because Ponyboy was right, nothing gold can stay. But my mind keeps taking snapshots of every ray of light, and I wish that I could live behind a camera but I can't. I can't. God knows that I try, but I can't.

My winding roads will soon be growing barer as the mountain trees succumb to winter's breath. The light will change, and I will change, too. The ink stained pages remind me of that. But they also remind me that I am held. I am held, even when I can't feel the grasp. My grip doesn't hold, no matter how I exhaust myself trying. But I am held.

So I soak in the gold. The paint will fade from my skin, but I let it stay while it can. I keep filling the pages. I keep taking the snapshots. I keep sitting in the sun.

16 comments:

  1. oh my goodness, why why why is this so beautiful? you captured such a beautiful feeling with your words and I adore it <333333

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so, so much. :') That means the world!!

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  2. You put my feelings into words. This is so beautiful!

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  3. this is oh so beautiful, my friend.

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