Suddenly you see so clearly how the world is filled, every single square inch of it, with tiny blossoms.
Holding the handmade ornaments from my daughter, with their crayon colorings, brilliantly arranged as a little girl of five to say Santa was arriving, made me nostalgic for those beautiful days of handcrafted gifts with special bows made by her small hands.
Our heart aches – not from regret, but from the memory of what was.
It took almost 30 years, a random sentence and an impromptu visit to an old friend’s grave to make me realize what I did that day and to show me how far I’ve come.
It’s been 20 years since I’ve heard her laugh, dried the dishes while she washed and enjoyed her company over cookies and coffee. Only one cookie allowed per cup, by the way. That was our rule.
Reading through your diaries – back during those nasty divorce years – I remember dealing with my own issues as a young teenager; never realizing how you suffered as well… especially missing mum.
Even when the truth crushed me, like ever-creeping walls, closing in like some Indiana Jones scenario, and me without my party, and an invisible quiver I couldn’t even see, of arrows with fire that had burned out long ago, and my only shield was my ability to be scarier than than the fears I faced.
I had to grow up fast… from being a “cowboy” to a man… figuratively, throwing myself at her feet; literally, begging for forgiveness.
Metaphorically, the same lines of the poem can be taken as a directive for life. If you want to reach your dreams, you have to let go of fretting and obsessing over every little obstacle that appears along the way.
A miniature face was all you could see peeping out of the blanket – two navy-blue eyes, translucent white skin and a tiny pair of pursed red lips. Mother and child seemed other-worldly; like a mirage, flickering on and off.