In our town, we have a huge old hardware store. It's located next to railroad tracks and looks to have been part of a mill harkening years back. The century-old cranky, creaky wooden floors are loyal to me; they are in sync with my every step. The farm relics, penny farthing bike, dusty original Radio Flyer wagon, and especially, the buttery scent of the popcorn in their antique popcorn machine reaffirm and enrich this experience even more. For this, I am ever thankful. 

Every excuse I find to visit this relic-filled repository is cause for a quiet celebration in my soul. The exposed beams and rafters there remind me of our 1831 Colonial farmhouse. I often wonder what hides behind our plaster walls;  I'd do anything to give them a voice. In my mind the conversations would revolve around family and farming; evidently, the founding farmer brought his family to this small town to grow produce on the two acres now home to our chickens and ducks. 

"I've been living in her world for years; there's no other way."

There was something about these captivating words that fascinated me. Their sentiment summoned my attention, kidnapped my entire being and held it captive.  The ransom involved releasing this intriguing, heartfelt tale from my blog-burdened brain while paying homage to these two women wandering a perilous, unmapped journey.  My rapt curiosity craved knowing more about "Mae's world" through the heavy heart of her daughter, Dalila. 

Deafening silence. Not a sound. Only the quiet vibrations from the internal, raucous roar of a beating heart. And oh, BOY! Is this heart ever beating away!

This blog entry isn't written by me. It's written by you, my sweet family, and the world around me.  It's written by today's forecasted serendipitous snow that will satisfy me to the core, the eggs my chickens and ducks lay daily, and the song "Sounds of Silence" I listen to as this blog post flows freely from the depths of my soul.

Sometimes we walk through life. Other times we barely crawl. Lately, through sleepy eyes and a healing body, I'm doing a power walk. Who'd have thought?

I'm leaving no time for my shadow to catch up with me. There will be no space or time between where I've been and where I'm going. After having had major surgery, I willed myself to recover physically in the same way I healed emotionally from my past abuse. No scalpel, sutures or even post-operative pain could steal my steam.  Not after what I've endured.