Feb. 17, 2005, Kisses in the Wind:

The candlelight in my cabin is barely enough to see words leave my pen. I don't know if I would have the fortitude to keep the pen moving across the page, if cold were added on top of dark. But, I am not tested that way tonight.

The furnishings here are meager, but my requirements are few. I have seating for four, at least four who are friendly and fine-boned; a comfortable bed, big enough for one person and two dogs; a kitchenette; and a closet-sized bathtub.

There is dining service for four, too, bright yellow plastic cups and plates from a retired picnic basket. The copper pot at the door awaits spring planting and a delicately framed mirror holds the magnificent conch shell reminding me of the kindness of strangers.

Heavy curtains keep out the worst of the cold and the remnant biker motif of half-naked women conveniently wards off those with delicate taste. It's a place of my own where I can entertain my own thoughts and please myself with a cup of hot cocoa in solitude.

Having grown up in a family of five children, I rarely knew the small pleasure of time to myself, perhaps not since I was five, digging in the cool dirt, under my grandfather's avocado trees. Then, I used a kitchen spoon to dig whole cities for imaginary mice, while I contemplated the absence of my father.

When I recently said to my former lover, "It's hard to get over you," and he replied, "I'll help you," I knew I couldn't take another ounce of that kind of help. There are some things you must do for yourself.

With cool, sandy soil to tilI, I have the advantage of age, knowing that time heals, work mends and kisses in the wind magically land where they are intended.

The Dog Leg Diaries
Tales of Restoration
by Karen Riggs

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