Evening T and Slicers,
We are coming to the end of this long, cold month and still it doesn’t feel like Spring. But it was still my intention to ignore the chill, fill my gas tank and head to the City for lunch with a new friend, but early this morning I got an email from him apologizing and hoping we could reschedule, given that he wasn’t well.
Sure, I am more flexible than ever before and it’s been paying off to just let a day unfold. And so, on this dreary Sunday, the last Sunday in March, I forced myself to move through my mental lists of must do’s:
Change the bed sheets, wash/dry the week’s laundry, play guitar- lesson tomorrow, practice Hebrew, exercise… All DONE!
And then for a new discovery, a recommendation from friend, Nancy – A Place to Call Home- a series that takes place in the early 50’s in a small town in Australia. The main character, Sarah, once Bridget, has deep secrets from a past life and love- a converted Jew, married in Paris to Rene in the Resistance. I wasn’t sure if this was for me, but with some patience and flexility by the end of the second episode I was engaged.
Five episodes under my belt and as Sarah prepares for Yom Kippur and shares more and , here’s a poem that her husband loved written by his friend, Frederico Garcia Lorca.
Tell my friends that I’ve died.
Tell them that I’m out here in the sky, my eyes wide open.
My face covered up by this endless blue shroud.
That I’ve gone off, empty,to the stars.
I paused the episode, grabbed my jacket and walked outside onto the balcony . I looked up to you through the cloudy sky and smiled and you filled my heart to its brim.