Member-only story
I Am Open to Receive
Flash Creative Nonfiction
December, 2014
White lights wrap the brittle tree limbs and flicker in the falling snow outside Bernice’s Bakery. They’ve hung up their aprons for the day and banked the fire, taking all their friendly faces home. The path down to the river is caked thick with new snow, a good surface for walking. The Clark Fork is freezing over again — from the bottom up on the edges, glazing over in patches in the middle, and coalescing where the current is lazy. Down on the flats the rafts of ice pile up, their shapes a cacophony of geometry. In a few short months, spring will scour the banks clean, all along the river, but just now, everything wears a softening blanket, and snow continues falling softly into the evening.
The moon is full tonight. The effect of powerful lunar forces on the Earth amplifies our prayers and wishes, enhances our receptivity. I envision in my mind and heart what it is that I want, and I try very hard to let go of past disappointments, which get in the way of possibility. I want and need all the blessings that may be coming my way. I am open to receive. I just don’t know if anyone’s listening, and it has felt this way for a very long time. Tonight, in the dark, I don’t feel like I’m in the flow of anything at all — except the river rushing through its obstacle course of ice, and the wind whistling…
