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The Lost Girl Found: A Tale of Love


“What’s the matter with you, my darling one?” she coos into my face.

“I cannot see my way, I tell her. I am holding my breath and my chest is filling up with grief, becoming so heavy I can barely hold my head up on my own shoulders from the weight of bearing down, bearing it all.

“Tell me why you are so lost,” she encourages me with her beckoning hand, showing me a worn patch of dried grasses on which we can sit together.

“I cannot find the truth. I cannot seem to know why it was him. I have given up a great Love of my life and yet I had to choose either me or him. I chose me. Because it was going to kill me if I did not.”

The words cascade from my lips, a river flowing over its banks and flooding the heart center of my being as it empties me of truth-telling phrases.

“What has happened to you?” she begs me to speak.

The air is soft, warm breezes caress her arms, and she shivers in joy at the feel of it. It is dawn, the light is golden pink, dusting the grasses around this special place, the top of the Hill of Knowledge, with its magical presence, letting the light bathe us in its misty wonder. In the distance I can hear the caw of soaring waterfall, signaling that the lake isn’t far off and that the natural world is just waking up to morning.

I dip my fingers into the rushing stream beside where I sit next to her, peering into the distance at a foggy marine layer, covering the oceanic beaches that have washed my hope away from its shore. Me, a revered elder in my tribe now, wearing the metallic-silver-linked chain with the single bloodstone and two diamonds set in a solo amethyst crystal bead that signifies the lineage of my Celtic ancestors.

My robe is purple velvet, with a golden braided rope securing it to keep it from revealing my nearly naked body underneath. It drapes my thin form, a beautiful older diva with plump youthful breasts, a tiny waist and long able legs that hold me up and out into the world around me. My lengthy expanse of shoulder-length thick auburn hair moves like the North wind when I walk. My years of my 7th decade betray my presence, appearing as a young woman dancing for Love as though it is fresh, new and alive. With my full smile, white teeth showing, my body aches to express its power, my will its invitation, and my heart its calling for All that is possible now.

Lilac Rose is her chosen name. She has no name and no human past, like many Goddesses, born from the Eternal Land of Being. She bends toward me in her swoopy way, wearing a diaphanous white flowing dress down to her bare ankles, kissing the tops of her bare feet, bedazzled with jewels and trinkets carefully sewn into the bodice. Her waist length silver-white hair cascades down her sumptuous cleavage, as even though advanced in age, she is ageless. With a glint in her deep blue-black eyes and a sliver of a smile appearing on her smooth-skin face, she takes my face in her hands, looks into my tear-filled eyes, and plants a loving kiss on my forehead.

“Now, tell me the whole story, my darling one…” she half murmurs peering deep into my eyes as though she already knows the answers.

I lay back into the warm womb of the grassy edge of time, ready to tell her the entire journey that I have made, up to this moment, to be in this special sacred place I once called “Home.”

“It all began with a ping on my phone last spring from a bee sent to meet me for coffee, a match from my Bumble dating app!” I am almost sweating with excitement as the words tumble out of my mouth.

…and on it goes.

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