Snail trail

Oh but I am blessed.  Sitting on the patio watching the warm sun sink through the hazy sky I heard the promise of spring.  Dreams of blossoms of hope and happiness and love welled up inside of me. Setting up here in the new Chez Vigneau has been slow going.  Tonight I chose to abandon all thoughts of responsibility, and traded in for a glass of red on my beautiful new patio where I watched bunnies ducking under bushes, snails meandering about and crows coming in for landings in the massive pine trees that skirt the property.

The cushions of the wicker furniture are thread bare and tearing in some spots.  I turned them and everything seemed fresh and new.  Touching one chair I accidentally knocked loose a snail, who made an emphatic click as it hit the brick beneath my feet.  I turned him right side up and resumed my mission of relaxation.  Too beautiful.  This thought was a welcome relief as it overtook the maddening frustration that had defined my week at work, and my recent thoughts for myself.  How can I be almost 48 years old, and still not know what my life's purpose is?  How can I have spent what I have in love and tears, and have nothing to show for it?  How can it be that I have loved so hard, and yet have no one who wants to love me?

My throat swelled as I remembered my loneliness, and tears started to well in my eyes.

The sinking sun caught one of my tears and glistened, turning my attention toward the sun.  I noticed beneath the sun's line, a haphazard trail left by a snail.  It circled back upon itself half a dozen times and didn't appear to be going anywhere in particular.  Silly snail, I thought.  Silly snail... what have you done with your day?

As the sun continued to lower it burned with that ferocity that every dying light emanates, as if to call out in the hopes of being heard... "I was here."  Before long it hit the snail trail which glistened like a million lights.  As if each seemingly meaningless step was but a glint in this world's great light.

Om nama shivaya.