01 March 2012

Shelter for the Traveler

The tick of the clock overlays the bacon-frying-sizzle of wheels over wet pavement. Train horn sounding in the distance as I sit alone in the living room of my parent's house, gazing at the Saint Christopher medal hanging on a chain around my neck.  I am not Catholic or Eastern Orthodox, nor am I devout of any persuasion, so the medal seems incongruous. It is a gift from someone very close to my heart, and thereby has become something sacred in its own quiet way.  I treasure it for that, knowing this gift was given out of love.

It is late evening.  I have returned from a day at the hospital where I was helping tend to my ailing mother. My father is staying at the hospital with her overnight. She should be home tomorrow, if things continue their positive course. It is my wish, my hope, that she also receive blessings on her journey.

I have to pause a moment, listening to the clock and the train.  My right hand steals to the medal.  I run my fingers over it, the golden metal of it feeling warm and slightly slick. Closing my eyes, I hear rain falling on the roof to add its own counterpoint to the rest.

My head rests on my left hand, the medal clasped in my right. It warms to blood temperature, almost as a living thing.  I breathe, I rest, and my heart grows light and warm to know that someone watches over me on this road I am traveling.


  1. anybody else hear dont stop believin' after reading this?

  2. Talismans have power, especially if given in love. Glad you found some comfort from yours.

    Home safe wishes for your Mom.

  3. hold on to that which gives you comfort. peace, sugar. xoxoxxo

  4. Beautifully written (as ever) but this one was particularly sublime. Hope your mum is home now. I used to wear a cross and at times like that I would rub it and feel it grow warm. I wish I hadn't lost it.

  5. Hope your mom's ok. I had a St. Christopher once, it was beautiful. Wonder whatever happened to it?

  6. I hope that things are well with your mother. Dealing with the aging parents is a difficult thing.


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

Tell me what is in your heart...