“In the gloaming, oh my darling,
think not bitterly of me.
Though I passed away in silence
left you lonely, set you free..
For my heart was tossed with longing,
what had been could never be.
It was best to leave you, thus, dear,
best for you and best for me.”
Sometimes when I go on my walks I like to stop and sit awhile on these steps that once led to a lovely old Spanish mansion.
There is a peace and calm about this place; where the massive old home once stood grass and tall weeds grow. Ruins of a contemporary nature always hold a fascination. They remind us that even our most vivid present can evaporate into a memory.
Others pass by this now vacant estate and have no recollection that once a stylish and fanciful stucco mansion stood –almost as out of place in this white bread and mayonnaise neighborhood as a Spanish dancer.
It stirs something with in me, these steps that lead nowhere, that once led to someone’s home. The same is true of daffodils, great hordes of them in the midst of nothingness, and you know that they are the residue of the homestead that once stood there.
In a way, we all have steps left inside of us–beginnings that lead to nothing, hopes that we once harbored that never became realities.
I am thinking of my own steps within, and I am believing that with time and effort I can rebuild a place to house my dreams.
That is part of the bigger aim of the Wu Food Project. It is a constructive plan to help me rebuild my energy and my health so that I can be my best self. Walks like this are so restorative. Mr. Wu’s meals provide just enough calories to carry me until my next meal with energy–which is a contrast to how I had been eating before–skipping meals, and then taking in waaaaaay more calories than my body could burn before I ate again. Pretty simple arithmetic.
Lionel Ritchie wrote of a woman who was a “brick house”–and the Bible writes that our bodies are a temple to the Holy Spirit. Somewhere between the two there is a blueprint for my own temporal home, and my spirit can’t wait to move in.