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Tolerant, thoughtful, tender. The words on her headstone. She’d lived up to those words and they’d served her well until that final day when tolerance had been her undoing. Greta hadn’t suspected he was anything other than what he purported to be.
Standing over her grave masked in an expensive auburn real hair wig, blue-tinted contacts, sporting a weight loss of 20 lbs she could ill afford, she sighed. The life she’d known a distant memory.
George Armstead had provided an education, enrolling her in a police academy at his own expense where she’d received training and was now a full-fledged detective.
She’d taken the course because she’d always wanted to be a cop, more since the dramatic life altering incidents had forced change upon her. Now more than ever she wanted to find the man responsible and George promised to help her when the time was right. Ten years had passed and it was time. Faking her death was the only out available. He’d moved on to someone else. George had kept tabs on his activities. It had to stop, one way or another. It was a pact they’d made years ago.
Deftly, secretly overtly she’d made inroads into his life. She knew what he did for a living, that he had a family consisting of a wife and two adorable boys. Together they would put together a case to end him and his vicious insanity. Karma was a bitch.
Profoundly refreshed and whole
Renewal affects body and soul.
Cleaning of all the old and tired
A process honoured and admired.
Feelings of relaxation and freedom
A blending of healing through the season.
Culminating in a renewed spirit
Deserving of thanks and great merit.
Understood by others who search
Hoping they too will emerge
Ready, prepared, lifted and wise
Nothing for which to apologise
Soul searching seeking now complete
Emerging changed, from their retreat
I mistakenly thought a muse equated a person you emulated. So in that sense I guess I’ve never had a muse.
It was automatic in my world, or my thought processing, to cogitate on something heard or seen, said or done, from a half dozen different angles, and reach a conclusion. And yes there were occasions when, it might take a considerable length of time, if it were a deep thought provoking word phrase idea or action, before I would come to a heartfelt conclusion on the subject at hand.
Perhaps I’ve missed out, not having a muse in the traditional sense of the word. For I have always foraged ahead, independently choosing my path in the world seeking no other to bounce ideas off of.
Would it have enriched or changed my life in a meaningful way? I couldn’t say. Perhaps in the future I will find a muse, that person that I can sit with for hours and examine ponder and rethink events in the world and their meaning.
For now, I am but a sponge, taking in, enjoying and being enriched by all the words phrases ideas and thoughts around me. I don’t mean in an arrogant egotistical I’m right and the rest are wrong type of way, but in an open considering thoughtful way.