Thursday, September 05, 2013
The dawn of a new day. The air swirls with a freshness, deep, long breathes filled with capacity. A rush of air pushed from lungs. The smell of java and dirt mixed. Lost within images that just float.
In and out.
A sweet mixture of impending spring with the oldness of the past season.
Bittersweetness dips on my tongue.
Reflections of the life lived. Seasoned.
Filled with smiling, familiar faces.
So carefree. So Lost, yet in love with the thought.
Inhaling the stretch of Mother Earth's awakening. Longing for her to wrap her arms about us, tightly.
Of a seasoned life.
Seeing. Feeling. All there was trapped within, for eternity.
The music of the day, awakened before the sun. Life outside, beckons for one to just run through the fields. Rejoicing in the moment of being here.
Life moves, it heaves. As trucks rumble on a distant highway ... going ...
Quietly meandering through the morn.
Upon entering a door, life engulfed, busy with routine, I bent to awake my mother.
Images, flashed before me. I hesitate, and halt all together. I stood over her, just to watch her sleep. To hear her breath. Lost within the memory of a child at five, playing with her mother's hair as she slept. A mother who carried all the beauty this child could ever want, and possess. The child watched her in awe.
That child stood above the mother this morn, still in awe.
Time has a new meaning as of late.
A sudden importance. The realizations of where I stand in relation to Father Time.
The path, as I gaze out along the muck, the cobblestone smoothed over the years, appears to move forward endlessly...reaching out to the ends of the earth.
It does not.
The horizon moves closer... sneaking and stealth.
I have become more aware, more than usual.
Not just of the minutes, the hours or the days. Not of just the time well spent, well wasted or just gone from the pages.
Or the evidence of time that gazes back from a reflection.
The trees, the sound, the smell. The cracks in the sidewalk at my mother's home.
Children; laughing. Frolicking. Teenagers sitting, contemplating life, the future.
The future stares back now.
And then, as quick as it came, the images fades, blurs back to that woman, standing there, staring at the pavement.
Voices of a past life. Giggles. Tears. Shed here on this very spot.
Prom pictures, baptismals, weddings, graduations ...
A noise distracts me from these moments, calling me back to now.
From the window:
A child waving
A mother standing behind her, staring, through my very soul, as if she knew every thought I just relived...
Stare back in wonder .... Does she relive them too?
I smile, turn to leave, return to the clutter of life and stop again, to look back into her eyes ...
A slight smile to push the cheeks, stopping the tears ...
Still in awe... '143'
*Edit: A Quote I found in hindsight: "There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'why me?' and 'what if?', when you look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or a forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions."- ????