leaving moon behind, but you’re still on my mind

Well, it’s Old Blue Monday my paternal grandmother Ma began her weekly letters to me while she sat on her little Singer sewing machine stool in front of the large window that gave her a view of her backyard. That phrase was my first thought when I began my walk in the early dawn before the sun rose today. It was old blue Monday, but my walk wasn’t.

The moon looked almost full like a big circular white cloud against the sky above me when I stopped to watch a lone goose (possibly duck) that had broken ranks with four others to give me a personal “missing man” flyover today. I listened every day on my walks for the sounds of the birds migrating through my neighborhood on their way to wherever they called home. I tried to hear them before they came into view so I would know how many to look for. I guessed the group this morning was small; when the five birds came into sight, they were flying in a triangular formation similar to military aerial special jets like the Blue Angels or Thunderbirds. My goose today left his group, circled back directly over me, and then flew off to rejoin the others. How cool was that?

I left the moon behind, though, and kept walking as my own jumbled thoughts were keeping pace with my steps: from the war in Ukraine that was always close to the surface, to the Gamecock women’s basketball team on their way to the Sweet 16 in Greensboro Friday, to Rafael Nadal’s loss in the Indian Wells tennis tournament championship yesterday. I also made space in my mind to worry about Pretty who was on a day trip to Georgia in our old Dodge Dakota pickup that would be loaded down when she stopped to deliver her treaures to her antique booths in Little Mountain this afternoon. I could always worry about Pretty and our granddaughters.

Hm. Macro worry to micro worry. Yep, they call me the worrier for good reason.

Our driveway was my final hill to climb. Carport Kitty welcomed me home in her usual soft meow. Out of nowhere on the kitchen steps came the memories of a K.T. Oslin song I’ve loved since I first heard her sing it many moons ago.

You’re still on my mind, still on my mind. I’m still missin’ pieces from this broken heart of mine. Now don’t get me wrong here I don’t do this kind of thing every day. I was just doin’ a little walkin’, doin’ a little talkin’ to myself, and it brought you to my mind again. You’re still on my mind – now I feel like I need to talk to someone from those good ole times.

All of you are still on my mind today – I’m asking for peace instead of conflict, safety instead of peril, comfort through despair, the power of grace over broken hearts, and the opportunity for every missing person to find the way home.

About Sheila Morris

Sheila Morris is a personal historian, essayist with humorist tendencies, lesbian activist, truth seeker and speaker in the tradition of other female Texas storytellers including her paternal grandmother. In December, 2017, the University of South Carolina Press published her collection of first-person accounts of a few of the people primarily responsible for the development of LGBTQ organizations in South Carolina. Southern Perspectives on the Queer Movement: Committed to Home will resonate with everyone interested in LGBTQ history in the South during the tumultuous times from the AIDS pandemic to marriage equality. She has published five nonfiction books including two memoirs, an essay compilation and two collections of her favorite blogs from I'll Call It Like I See It. Her first book, Deep in the Heart: A Memoir of Love and Longing received a Golden Crown Literary Society Award in 2008. Her writings have been included in various anthologies - most recently the 2017 Saints and Sinners Literary Magazine. Her latest book, Four Ticket Ride, was released in January, 2019. She is a displaced Texan living in South Carolina with her wife Teresa Williams and their dogs Spike, Charly and Carl. She is also Naynay to her two granddaughters Ella and Molly James who light up her life for real. Born in rural Grimes County, Texas in 1946 her Texas roots still run wide and deep.
This entry was posted in family life, Lesbian Literary, Life, Personal, politics, Reflections, Slice of Life, sports, The Way Life Is, The Way Life Should Be and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to leaving moon behind, but you’re still on my mind

  1. Wayside Artist says:

    I hope by the time you reached home, bird song and moonglow healed a little piece of your heart.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Luanne says:

    This is a really lovely, but sort of heartbreaking post, Sheila. But what a beautiful time of day.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. A lovely post Sheila..and the lyrics are really special through your touch 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dawne says:

    This is moving and beautiful. I feel such awareness of many complex disturbing emotions in this time. Your reflections here are soothing. Congratulations on the one year anniversary.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Charming post. As a worrier, hope you’re mostly happily surprised by outcomes.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Linda Ketner says:

    Amen to all you said, buddy! I’m feeling the same!

    Liked by 1 person

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