In the world of memory: for Vi and Jane
Thinking of you, of all the other stories from last season, and of the family of our invention: The Secretary
Awaking this morning very early I thought of the places of last year’s imagining. I must go back to Owl Island, talk again to the Great White Owl and see if the donkeys are still enjoying their paddock. I know that there will be many differences for my donkeys will have lost their voices, the magic voices granted for a small season. Their stories are silent but remain, engraved in my heart and in the hearts of those who wrote them. Are they content? or do they have some memory of a season? The white owl babies still catch a ride from time to time and the donkeys, especially the younger seem to enjoy a morning run. The hammock is still tied between the trees, waiting the return of our dancing Gypsy queen and, in the big office my old desk waits. I sit for a time, chat for an hour with the priestesses of the winter moon, and am invited to dance once more but uncertainty clouds my will. I do not know if I shall dance again but know that this is my island and my place of dreams.
posted by Fran @ 3:41 PM
2 comments
The 
2 Comments:
Oh, Fran, so many memories. I remember Moonbeam and Augustua with special intensity. I can see even yet, their long ears twitching to catch every word I spoke to them. What a twosome they were! Whenever I think of their antics, I smile and sometimes giggle out loud.
Vi
We do all have such happy memories of those idyllic days Fran. Perhaps a group of us need to collectively return to the charming Owl Island to talk to the great White Owl.
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