#11 winter solstice 2013

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I went to Warrenton to hold my mother-in-law's hand and I danced to demonstrate what the aide described as "time to rock and roll" while they laughed. I stopped at Safeway where I held limp kale and sad looking spinach. I searched for paper-whites and amaryllis at the hardware store, but they were sold out. I held Prismacolor pencils, making loose loops in search of meaning and words but found silence. I scribbled to loosen my jaw and tight lips. I moved notebooks on my table to a box for clarity. My hands held soft dog ears for comfort. My hands embrace Warren's hands for reassurance.

_MG_9463.jpg"Some people say the best stories have no words....It is true that words drop away, and that the important things are left unsaid. The important things are learned in faces, in gestures, not in our locked tongues. The true things are too big or too small, or in any case always the wrong size to fit the template called language. I know that. But I know something else too....Turn down the daily noise and at first there is the relief of silence. And then, very quietly, as quiet
as light, meaning returns. Words are the part of silence that can be spoken." - Jeanette Winterson

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