Angie recently lost her mother. The last two years, she has juggled writing, editing demands at Rose & Thorn, her family--including teenagers--and along with her sister, taking care of her dying mother.
Last night was the first time I've seen Angie really Let Go. Just have a big fat huge belly laugh and throw her laugh out to the mountains in such abandon and joy and release. The mountain cove does that. The creek surging, the birds flying from feeder to feeder and then from tree to tree, the calm and serenity and quiet - the very Ancient of it all. The ghosts and spirits in this cove hovered round us, laughing their specter laughs. I love it here, and to share it with a best friend and colleague brings joy.
These mountains are a balm. Magic. They encircle and embrace and surround. They protect. They give. They take away nothing.
The mists have come the last few mornings, blanketing the valley below, covering the people who live down there. I wonder if they could hear our laughter echoing last night?