Ink Song

If you know me, you know that I have some ink. I think I am the only one in the family (except my crew) that has any type of decoration.

My first tattoo was a small symbol on my right inner ankle when I was 35. I remember when I emailed a picture to Mom, her only reply was "It looks infected".

I ended up getting my belly pierced when I turned 37. Believe it or not, I never think about it unless I have on a pair of high waisted pants.

About 3 years ago, I had a cross put on the small of my back on the left side. It was actually a magnet that I received for teaching Sunday School one year. I think Cindy said it best.. "I have brought a new level of terror into buying Sunday School teacher presents. Now, they need to worry about what will end up on my back."

In January of this year, I had a small lavender ribbon tattooed on my shoulder for Mom. Mom would tell people about my ribbon, but I rarely would show it. It just became another part of the landscape when I would look at myself in the mirror.

Last Friday, Neal at Blue Flame, put a circles of bright flowers woven around and into my ribbon. Think bright beautiful flowers in blues and purples and that strange orange that Mom liked and yellow and pink and green. Think of how the earth waits patiently in the winter for the sun, and when it feels the warmth, bursts forth in the flowers on my shoulder.

I am still here and I wait for the spring. I long for the warmth. I long for the time when the dark brown cold patches are covered in blossoms and my heart sings.

I know

I am here. I am just very quiet.

I sat in the chair this week and realized that I held Mom's urn like I held Zach when he was a baby. I miss the weight of both of them. I miss the feel of both of them.