Weaving Gold

Mokosha, Anastasia Sophia, and Me, Natalia . . . while the books are written

Another Day on the Merry Go ’round

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Fantasy Gateway Paintings by Patricia Allingham Carlson

I wake, but don’t open my eyes or move. I try to wiggle back into dreamscape. The in-between space fades and retreats, scoffs at my desperation to reap its wisdom, to unravel and comprehend inarticulable mysteries. I need answers. I am certain that I cannot face another day from this familiar and detested, infuriating place of not-knowing. But, of course, I do roll out of bed. I throw a load of laundry into the washing machine and drive my daughter to school. I chop vegetables for dinner and guide my son through math problems.

Life is like an amusement park. For the best rides, queues are long. We stand and wait. We are strapped in and hearts race as anticipation builds. Nineteen seconds or two and a half minutes later, the thrill is over.

Mary Poppins Horses on Bridge
I’ve waited enough. I’ve climbed and plummeted enough. I’m urging my horse off the carousel to experience freedom and magic.

And still, the questions remain. Where will I go? How will I fund my freedom flight? What matters?

Do you have any answers?

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