It feels like there is nothing but overload floating through my mind as I even consider the idea of encapsulating any of the episodes from the Literary Grannies - Adventures with Emma Washington, DC tour.
I texted Katherine yesterday, "I cried spontaneously four times yesterday."
She responded "Why, Mommy?"
Even then wordifying my experiences wasn't easy, just like they stump me now when I sit and try, once again, to communicate clearly.
There were so many moments where I was swept away, my soul felt like it was moving up and out of me and the only way to keep her nestled inside was to put my hand on my heart and let the tears flow.
That's the closest I can come.
And I haven't even done some of what I thought were the most "significant" parts of my trip.
I want to tell my readers about the places and experiences you may enjoy as well, places and experiences that are awe-inspiring and life changing or simply intriguing or worthy of asking questions.
I get lost, though, in where to start. What to write first. So I sit here, at the hotel keyboard, struggling.
This is one of the photos I have taken since I have been here. It is the one place I have visited twice: Ellanor C. Laurence Park in Centerville, Virginia.
I found the park when I was driving from someplace - I believe to eat dinner - back to the hotel. I saw the park's pond and I simply had to stop and breathe it in.
Dusk was falling so I knew I didn't have much time. I explored the grounds a bit, falling in love with one of the buildings. My heart almost burst open when I experienced my first firefly in decades. I think I squeaked, my version of screaming quietly, so as not to scare her. She seemed so much more regal and fancy than the ladybugs of my childhood.
I kept thinking, "I need to write here, I need to write here," so today, I went back and wrote there. Again, the silencing tears broke free. I sat, still, watching birds play - to me exotic birds I don't know yet. Insects making sounds I haven't heard before.
Even the leaves in the trees responding to the wind was different than the sound I am used to hearing. At home, the trees song is like water overy a rocky creek. I love it. I call those surprise "meetings with the voice of the trees" God-sounds.
The leaves here have a gentler water sound, more soothing. The sound might be called feminine. I can understand the concept of Nature being Mother when I hear their laughter as the wind blows through them.
Look at me. I started.
My next task? Making a list of what to write and starting in my notebook so when I arrive at the keyboard - and in front of you - my words will be somewhat in place.
Have I mentioned how grateful I am for you, there, reading me?
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