San Allie Monologue

When I stopped by and got my latte, Allie was not there that morning. I missed her; she is such a bright light for me. I walked into the office and noticed there was an unusual stir. Is Becky crying? Oh my, something is not right here. Jane opened her door, greeted me and asked me to come in.

“Bess, this is not going to be easy, so prepare yourself. I hoped to have had this matter settled, but it didn’t go as I had expected. I am closing the firm and moving back to San Antonio. I know you knew this was a possibility and I am sorry that it is so sudden. But, this is something I have to do. You are a talented woman with great potential, I will give you a very good reference.”

Possibility, I thought to my self. Probability, no,
I looked out the window of my high rise and breathed deeply. After the third dream about my grandmother, I decided it was the right time to fly home to the mountains and visit her. I could visualize those blue ridges, see the red buds and remember the daffodils that surrounded the posts near her driveway. Yes, I am going home.

Synchronicities, not just happen stance, but God’s appointments for us. How is it that most often we don’t even recognize them until we look back and then say, ‘that must have happened for a reason’? I can say that now. The dreams of my grandmother, my office closing, my numbness, the cigarettes that I really despised, all of these worked together as a message for me, for my life.

Eventually I realized why the numbness existed…I had failed to forgive a wrong. I will never forget it. Because I hadn’t forgiven, the pain had eventually developed into numbness. Numbness is not friendly. Some may think that if you are devoid of feeling that is a good thing, but no, it is equally painful. It’s a deep step down from grief and loss. I knew I needed to feel again, but couldn’t find my way so biting my nails and smoking eased that need and thus facilitated the
She may have talked in this manner before, but I didn’t have ears to listen. I remember as a young child looking at her and thinking she was a bit quirky, but oh how I always loved her. Now her words resonated and gave me hope.

“Elizabeth," my grandmother never picked up the nickname I carried with me since childhood, “I’m so pleased you got my message.”

“Grandmother, how did you send your message? I can’t remember what you said.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, you know. It was in your dreams. I prayed for you, visualized you well, happy, and trusted that you would recognize it was time for us to talk.”
“Grandmother, have you always had this ‘power’? I’m curious as to how you developed it and how you always seem to want for nothing in your life.”

“Well, my dear then it is time for it to learn.”

My grandmother offered me a room in her cottage and I quickly found a serving position in a local farm to table restaurant. My days of waiting tables during college were paying off. Such a funny thing to think what paid my bills during higher education, was now offering me a living for a new education. I guess life is cyclical in many ways, like the frond as it opens from the earth after a long winter’s