Circle of Life
What is it about a child's fearless joy that causes trembling, laughter, tears of joy and melancholy?
Perhaps it's remembering our own young children, knowing how quickly moments pass and astonishment in the little things turns to frustration and trials.
Maybe it's just the feeling we get when we wrap our aging fingers around the small, soft, sleeping faces at night, following the forms, trying to so engrave the beauty into our minds, dreaming that their presence will be with us just as much tomorrow . . . and the next day and the next . . .
And in the darkness as the moon glimmers through slatted blinds, a grandma's tears dampen soft, silky hair as she kisses little faces and recalls her own grandmother from years gone by . . . and realizes all over again the brevity of life on earth.
And deep longing settles in . . longing to be held and loved by Grandma, by Mama ... longing to be closer, spend more time and establish a quality relationship with these little ones whose fearless joy brings trembling, laughter, tears of joy and melancholy . . .
. . . melancholy that reaches back in time and surrenders memories of days well spent, and hope for this circle of life to show only love, only hope, only grace, only faith that it does not, indeed, end here.
© 2014 donnaarthurdowns