Pure Magic

I gather myself in many ways from top to bottom, wrung together.

Hair, make-up, skin, under and on top, I dress in shoes, jacket, and a magic bag for the night.

First apparition, white roses in a rainbow, arching across my path. Stop to fill my hair with the pureness of blossoms shining down like feathered kisses just for me.

Nervous to the point of nausea, a vision in white. Tromping up the street, I am somewhere between Frida, mom and go-go dancer. Betsy Johnson on one side and hydrangea on the other, 12 blocks of beautiful skies and David Bowie in my ears.

Sound and vision I take in my home by the sea, top of the hill sunshine and ocean, all the while thinking about what he might be doing tonight.

Shake those thoughts you silly girl, this night is for you and what is to come. A question and an answer I am open to the magic that this will be. The power to shape and create, in my eyes, my heart, my mind my womb. Bring others who know such power.

Party is in the back.  Simple sign leads the way to a flowered path, and there just beyond in the sunset shadows, ladies await goblets in hand, feathers, flowers and adornments in hair. Traded out baby wraps, jeans, V-neck tees. This is for us, for me for we. We are dressed for magic and a ceremony unknown to any.

Alter of divinity, disguised as wine and cheese, laid out before us we feast, partake in the greenery. We share our stories, our drinks our hugs. Sun setting, tween time coming in, the magic begins. A lull, a rush, a roar, flesh donned clothes shed.

Into the cauldron, boil and bubbly spritzers, nips and knees touching to see how many we can squeeze into the space we need. Our laughter uproarious through the trees. Songs begin, first of servitude then of fierce fiery crocodiles who will devour anyone who dare stop us.

Roses flow from my hair into the water, the broth stews, and perfumed women crackle with energy steaming with life. Apparitions fill our goblets to keep the magic alive. A blessing to the one who brings us together, tonight, for life we are bonded in this night of pure magic.

Stories of unicorns lost in the woods of our hearts but never forgotten, future dreams, forgiveness, these are just some of the themes that run around the fire and flowers that smell of springtime on our hands, in our hugs. Remembering how we ended up here in this exact moment, a celebration of a life lived, a life in transition, this moment now and gone.

Late night remains, we share in the smoke of peace and divinity before we part. Sky haired goddess departs for the night, raven-haired host returns to the motherland. I on the left side guard against the shadow, the crocodile snatcher flanked on the right to guide our goddess home for the night. One last venture, dreams of the homes, which will be ours to continue this magical melee and then it is over, circle broken, magic complete.