Feeling Torn Apart or a Bird in Migration?

I have friends in two places.

I have dear beloveds on both extremes who are convinced they are right.

They will not speak to each other, but to me they both speak of "standing up for what is right."

They are done searching and have settled into Certainty.

And it is tearing me apart.

...

I have two homes.

The one I grew up in and the one I came to know.

Neither has a real sense of the other, yet they speak with certain judgement.

They are disperate and quirky, small and proud.

Once I left, I could never show enough loyalty to be trusted again.

...

I have two sons.

They are best friends.

But when they are together they lean out to reveal differences.

They are moving in together.

I love them so.

...

I am 55 and I am still menstruating.

An empty nester with eggs.

I'm waiting for opportunities to come my way 

after all my schooling and experience

But now I'm told all those credentials

No longer hold sway.

I go to two different churches.

I swim and grieve and eat and wonder how to hang on to joy.

I volunteer and try new groups and learn of different causes

Then others tell me what is wrong with the group, which is why they can not offer help.

I eat more sugar because it takes away the bad taste in my mouth

For a time

The child in me is scared and wants me to stop and just take care of her.

I get a call from the University about a possible job, and cry with hope.

I can't get back on to Unemployment Insurance because I made $10 too much one week.

But the system won't let me restart; there is a glitch that takes too long to explain.

But I would have to wait 9 hours on hold with the same 20 second melody to talk to a specialist

So they can try to check the same boxes without perjury

Then ask me the same questions

Only to realize 

there is no box for me.

Why has everything become so depersonalized?

It's deflating to say the least.

...But then,

I walk through the city and it is so lush... and ignored. 

The Oregon grape, the canopy of leaves over the sidewalk, the day lilies, the lavender, the baby's breath, the purple, the red, the white, the fragrant and the tender, the shiny and the bold, the mysterious knot in the tree, the sun and shadows dance on the path.  Even the exposed roots make a braid of beauty and wonder.

And now, my troubles are small.

What if I lived each day following my happiness and delight?  I don't mean falling into dissipation or out of reality, but rather, stepping farther into it. Not just noticing my surroundings, but steeping in them.

Lately, when the air is cool, but the sun is shining, I like to find a spot near vegetation and turn my back to the light and let it heat me through.  And just breathe.

Instantly the child in me takes my hand and I am quieted.  My feet are solid, but my mind floats on receding waves back in time to every other day like this.

I realize there have not been many days like this in the last 30 years, so these conditions evoke childhood memories rich with sweet possibility and a sense of lingering... listening for the call, to tend to the heart and follow the body into peace and safety, beauty and connection with nature, with the wind, the bird song, the leaves, the grass, the ants, the wood, the blackberry, the stone, the water, the duck and goose, the sky, the osprey... none of this is common or sentimental while I'm paying attention.

My shoulders slide down my back and my wings fall into their favorite resting place.