There is a snow blanket covering this land today, a cold rememberance of memories past and memories to come. "Some memories never multiply, but new ones leave their trace...." I am remembering by the snow's visit a later day when the third child was bundled up by the first child and made to sit on a makeshift sled, an old scoop shovel seemingly fitted for little britches to ride upon the snow. The oldest, my first born- loved snow, first snows especially and he could not contain a joy within himself, he always needed to share it, for he was big in heart and the good Lord made him just that a way so that the cavity that held that heart might swell some more from the goodness he shared with others, allowing the heart there to become even larger. That is what I see as I gaze out my window, this early early morning-a boy whose heart that was to big for this world, so big in fact that it calls to me still from the sweet hereafter, in an unsilenced memory of music and song and the sweetest, longing memories for those yesterdays, those take-them-all-for granted, the-sun-will-always-rise days and the snows-the first snow, will always fall in such a way on my heart that it softens and hardens it all at the same time. Hug your child today, love your child today, remember always remember the gift there. Blessings, take care-
1 comment:
oh blessed writer of the soul, of the snow, of the heart.....your firstborn he was born with your heart. at least that's what i think, me faraway. me just taking a rather smart guess. more than a guess. a knowing. your heart is a magnificent vessel. your heart, the one you write of that softens and hardens. your story of snow, it will forever now be in my eyes too. that is the power of story. you talk, or you write, and i listen. i like a sponge take it in. i am changed, forever not ever the same, because i took in your story. it changed me. i too felt the pain, saw the picture. the first born bundling the third born. your longing makes me long too. i wish i was close enough to come sit by your fire, or you sit by mine. we'd stay up half the night, sharing story. watching our hearts bulge out of our chests. just like his did. just like i imagine it did. no, just as i picture it. you do the drawing, i watch. i can see. your colors are bright are beautiful are clear. anyone tell you today, you are a magnificent poet.
i see something new there, the poetry block off to the side. a blog--a word that really is a dreadful abomination---is a thing like a stew. it just gets richer and richer, as you stir, as you tinker, as you add bits and snips of your heart. i send love. thank heaven i checked back today. when i'd checked yesterday it must have been a little too soon. and i would not want to have missed this. this one is beautiful. is lovely. is you......
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