Moving Through This Change [Prose]
Moving Through This Change
‘How are you?’ people ask in tender concern. I say I’m in a weird space. Some, who don’t know me well, ask further.
‘Was she a confidante?’ I nod. ‘Is there someone else in your circle of acquaintances you could make a friend of?’
I stare. She repeats the question. I tell her I have good friends.
Or, ‘What will you do with yourself now?’ I laugh, and list my weekly schedule.
The ones who know me better just hug.
After the memorial service, some of us went back to her house. I never have to do this again, I thought, as we navigated the long, stony driveway, the landlord’s barking dogs running at our wheels. But I took several photos of her elderflower tree, in full new bloom.
The little butcher bird didn’t come knocking at her window, not once. I was glad to know he’d got my message and wouldn’t be desperately searching.
I collected the box the family were told must come to me: magical pieces she’d crafted – some incomplete, but all usable. I found written descriptions for most, not all.
Our jeweller friend handed me a ring she’d commissioned (supplying the crystals and her own design). ‘You should have it.’
Some items I can give to special people. Others?
‘An ancestor shrine,’ someone suggests. (She was younger in earthly years, this-lifetime years, but truly far more ancient.)
I begin to set it up. Strangely, this is a pleasure.
The big, glittery printed board of her business name: Esoteric Pure Magic by Letitia Lee. Two wands lacking written details. A rose quartz heart and rose quartz angel she gave me. A labradorite heart someone gave her, which she decorated. A single clap stick representing all the elements (where’s its partner?). Her personal copy of her own oracle cards. A cat statuette magicked as a familiar. I’ll add the ring, and her photo.
The last photo I took of her? (Enjoying our outing, smiling.) Or from earlier in our long friendship? I start remembering the healthy woman she was. The vigour, vitality, joy.
That last morning, despite exhaustion and pain, she told me everything I must do for my own wellbeing.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I will.’
Linked to Poets United's Interactive Moonlight Musings on The Positive Side of Change: 369 words without title.