"a summer storm..."

"the storm may
roar without me..."
- Mary Baker Eddy

she sweeps in from
the west like
a severe maiden aunt
in starched
black taffeta and
pointy-toed black shoes that
lace up to a
place just above the
hem of her
stiff
skirt
that thrashes the air
around her....

i hear her coming...
a rumbling
under her breath, and the
flash of stern eyes
seeking out
a stain on my pinafore,
or hoping to catch me
napping over my
lessons...

in an instant
she is standing
over me

and with a thunderously
sharp
rap of her
heavy signet
ring on the edge of the
desk

i am awake

i cower and
shake,
wishing I could cover my head
with my books,
a sweater,
anything that will hide me
from her
disapproval...

that is,
until I see just the tiniest
sliver of a lace-edged petticoat
poking from beneath
her hem...

and I remember...
she is like me.

she was a girl...

and we both love
books,
and lavender oil,
and the color
of clouds
just before the storm...

and more importantly
I remember that
we are
both His daughter...

and within me
there is
a great calm...

the darkness parts
ever so slightly
and
a shaft of
kindness, the barely-there
smile that
surprises and delights
slices the
sky with an
unbidden beauty
that is
not
so different from
my own...

I rush to hug her
waist, and
she begins to cry to
softly silent tears of
surrender...

then the blackness of
her stiff taffeta
rips and
her arms open
and she takes me into a
place so pure and
clean that
torrential tears drown out the
pride of
something held back
and aching
for release....

I am the space she
needed
to rain her
pent-up hopes
upon....and
I am blessed