the Silk road

My son and I went shopping yesterday. After buying loads of very cheap markdown nike clothing for him, we went to the Misses section. He was patient and let me look for a long while.

He found a dress for me, all silk, with all the colors I love woven in. Aqua and fuschia, bright yellow and cobalt. So beautiful. (he has exquisite taste...some girl is going to be very lucky to have him as a husband) I tried it on, and unfortunately it was an extra large.

At one point last year, I was an extra large size, but lost sixty pounds. I am more of a small now. So I was a bit disappointed. But looking closer at the seams and the way the dress was made, I realized that it was easily altered. I have been sewing since age 8, (thanks, MOM!) so with that knowledge I happily made my purchase.

(Ryan picked out for himself a dark green basketball outfit, which he has worn now for 2 days straight. i made him remove it today to wash it, but he is planning on wearing it tomorrow as well. )

So with a bit of effort, something beautiful that I love will fit me perfectly. Without me working on it, though, it will remain on the hanger, as a beautiful but non-functional garment.

So much of life is what we put into it. We can choose that dress and leave it in the closet. We can have an aquaintance that never becomes a friend. Neglect the nagging voice that tells us to visit someone, or take a meal, or listen, or forgive? Leave things unsaid and unspoken. Fill ourselves with regrets.

We can look at life or we can participate. We can throw up our hands and give up, or we can fight that urge and give and pray. We can ask for more to do, or we can sit back and let others do.

I wrote a song about the travels of Marco Polo. he and his father and uncle did things that people just 'did not do' in those times. They travelled to parts of the world that were dangerous and hidden. They saw things, marvelous things that the western world had never seen. They opened up a route of trade that enriched both the east and the west. But the catch is that no one really believed Marco when he returned from his travels.

Perhaps no one but ourselves will know how much we gave or tried as we approach the twilight of life, but there is one that understands. He is preparing for me a silk garment that will fit perfectly, and I cant wait.

The Silk Road

Light the candle and I will pen
A story of a journey and back again
A book of secrets dark and long
A pathway to the Kublai Khan

From Venice where my book begins
To Genoa where it will end
And juxtaposed between the two
Lies a road unknown but to a few

And I will tell a story bold
Follow me down the silk road
Of eastern nights and treasures untold
Follow me down the long silk road

I travelled over the great Japan
And to the islands of Andeman
From the coldest days I could endure
to the turquoise nights of Neyshabur

The things that I have done and seen
Now seem but long forgotten dreams
but the road that leads to eastern sod
is truer than the tales of Sheherazade.