The Path

The snow is a blanket that slows the world down
It’s a fresh new start.

As a child I would awaken early
and anxiously wait to be the first one to make footprints.
I owned the path
I breathed in sharpness and exhaled determination.

Does the world expand and contract with me?
Snow is one of a multitude of ways that water shows up in the world.

Our bodies are mostly water.
The essence of who we are is floating.
Water flows through us and is us but sometimes we forget.

I had a massage therapist that would only wear white.
She believed since white is the absence of color
That the white would soak up the other colors for healing like a sponge.

Right now, white shows up as an unexpected relative of paralyzing fear and rage
Staring back at me with no recognition of who I usually am.

The page is blank.
Is this opportunity?

White is the horizon where no one waits for me.
No children.
The last in the line of pain and promise.

I must forge a new path and fill the glass to begin again.

Felicia is driven by curiosity. She takes things apart and puts them back together: dryers, door handles and ideas. She values directness as well as kindness. In life or salsa class she will be moving in the opposite direction of the crowd (sometimes not on purpose). Her family is nice enough to leave all the drawers open for her to push in so she feels useful. She lives outside of Boston on the North Shore with a large man with a heart of gold, a tween who sings like an angel but can’t remember to wear her own coat home from school and a greyhound named Arnie who enjoys crispy bread. You can follow Felicia on her website, LinkedIn and Facebook.

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