9:15 a.m. - 2020-09-20
I sit in a room surrounded by memories. Each a touchstone to some magical place in time. Each precious. There is the threadbare duck who accompanied me at three as I was hospitalized for virus pneumonia. There is a hard wire protruding from his cheek, no doubt hard earned by my baby fingers seeking solace. There are Donovan albums with mystical covers and seagull songs. Collections of ee cummings. Seashells, seastones and sea glass. An award for baton twirling made of blue construction paper, glitter and ribbon, issued by my best friend at the time, Toni. There are brightly colored pillowcases of Noah's Ark, from my first apartment. Photographs, some framed, some stuck behind stained glass hearts and moons. And there are mermaids, far as the eye can see! I call this my "Mermaid Room". This is where I plan to continue my diary, after a long hiatus. This is the portal. It is where I seek God's face every morning, sometimes more successfully than others. It is where I cry into a huge stuffed elephant named Frankie, who I fell in love with at Ikea, carried around the store and could not leave without. It is where I dream and where I sit in stunned silence. It is where I am grateful. It is where I gasp for breath. It is my cocoon from which I do not always emerge a butterfly. It is shelter. It is private. It is healing. It is my Secret Place of the Most High. It embraces me without reservation, however I appear. If this room could talk ...
Wait. Maybe it can ...