I turn from the highway and am headed up hill into the sky, and there right above me, reclining on his elbow is Orion. I watch it, and the temperature as it falls steadily 17, 12, 10, 7 degrees F. in only a few minutes of driving. The sky is crystal clear, and the trees are black and heavy with snow, long arms reaching for the car as I carefully make my way north. Orion is with me, watching my progress, always the lazy observer. I reach my finger up and hook my finger in his elbow, and spin him. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, slowly in flickering circles. Magic.
It is not late when I get there, the house is warm, the greetings warmer. It is good to be home, to be with family.
I have missed them so.
I do little more than nap lazily in front of the fire.
I worry that I will one day, not be welcome here, anymore. It is an ugly fear. Undeserved.
Later, I use a bowl, purchased from my friend who is a ceramicist, and mix together herbs to elevate the mood, hibiscus, lemon balm, ginger for inflammation, borage picked by my own hand this summer, and St. John’s Wort, at my therapist’s suggestion.
I use a bowl given as a gift from my sister in law, caught with her dog on my bed in the giving, this one for high blood pressure, hawthorn berries, dandelion root, yarrow, harvested this summer, and linden flowers.
I mix it with a lovely magical spoon, a gift from my mom.
The gift from the north of my dear friend’s wisdom, and my daily walks, my own healing touch.
I sample them in small amounts for flavor and scent.
I use the stag mug that once long ago, I gave as a gift to my father, and the handle-less cup (good for wrapping cold fingers around) from the matching green set.
Later as Marley snores, and Orion peeks in my window, and Sancho groans below, my room smells of thyme soap and I write my words of magic.
Keep watching over me Orion, I always know you are there in the cold winter night.
Soon it will be spring, and you will have better things to observe, and I will still be here, waiting for your return.