Tuesday, May 28, 2013

memorial day

we sat around the table
just the four of us
the boy with his hair freshly cut and the new gap in his front teeth.
(he bites his hot dog with his head cocked- using as many side-teeth as he can)

the girl has yogurt on her upper lip and continues to unknowingly apply dabs of the purple stuff to her hair-
her curls containing every color of a ripe wheat field at sunset.

and i was stunned. my heart stepping away from the table and seeing something bigger.

a son. growing. growing.
a girl who is following.
a dining room where i fed each of them solid food for the first time-
served countless breakfasts, lunches and suppers.
a place we will soon abandon for unknown walls.
and i can't grasp the moment.
can't put my fingers around.
i had hoped that writing would help me find it- find the few lines that would express the beauty-
the immeasurable beauty.
but my pencil was too thin- the reality too mighty.

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i saw wrinkles on my neck yesterday- the beginning of the weakening of my flesh.
i know that there is no running from time-
the moon rises and fills-
each week and month passing and changing.
i know my hope lies in something unshakable.
i do.
but today,
i wanted so badly to freeze
stop all this.

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may i never forget that boy's smile
or the girl's curls in the sunlight.
may my dear love-mate and i hold hands, as we greet the moons to come, and rejoice-
rejoice in these lunches.
with cantalope and yogurt-
talk of mammals and books.

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can the not-forgetting keep it safe?
can i firmly hold on at all to these lovely, mysterious gifts of moments?

probably not.
but i know there will be more
more to remember
and to give hope.

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