The night has fallen and the summons heard. One, outside on her deck. One, inside on her couch. Another, at her kitchen sink. The bell has been rung, the candle lit. The ashtrays cleaned and readied. The coffee made and waiting. Soda instead in the hand of one who doesn't really like coffee, as the joining of three souls, return to one. Distance never to make a difference. Tears to never make one run. Searching, with the courage to tell ones story, with no judgement given, nor taken.
Call it what one may, the sisterhood returned like so many other times. From one being in Texas, two from North Carolina, there isn't power on earth that could force the stopping of a meeting when called. It is the magic of just knowing one is hurting, needing, requiring the attention that only the bond can give, complete honesty.
It is the special intimate powers within the mind, that more times than not, triggers the instinct that something may be wrong, or right, or needed, perhaps just being... It is a deep level of trust that has already been tried and trusted... and gained leverage to the highest shapeable form within the heart. Thank you and I love you Tinkerbell and Little Miss Brat... it is the number three, as angels come in three's. For it is here, my heart will heal.
Children laughing in the background, ages twelve, eleven and six. One being Dracula, one watching television, one boxing on the computer, the match between Bush/Kerry. Please don't be silly! Of course Bush won! Ahhhhhhhhhhh, the joys of the Yadda... never go away.
As always,
passion ~
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