
I smile.
How long before first collision? Ah the visceral memory of playground grit meeting unprotected knee skin. I feel it, a muscle memory.
The wind is bringing on its wings change, memories of days passed. There is a sad tinge of nostalgia in its sighs. But it also tells of change, transience, the impossibility of permanence. Life is forever shifting, sometimes with heart wrenching, brutal suddenness and sometimes with an inperceivable subtlety. Cycles of explosive life, the green fuse of the leaf bud and then with its tension of opposites, the fading and slow sleepiness of the end of days.
I feel all this. We are in transition. We will all move to new places, roles, generations. Sadder. But wiser.
Life. Let the wind remind you. Like sand running through our toddlers' pudgy fingers, is to be marvelled at, played with but never caught in a tight grip.
It takes bravery to let go, but when we do there is release. Muscles soften, hearts unharden and we see simply the blessings we had all along. Now, now is what we have... wind and the high pitched chattering buzz of the playground, birds in swaying trees and a treasure chest of lovely times. We live forever in the hearts of those we loved.
It takes bravery to let go, but when we do there is release. Muscles soften, hearts unharden and we see simply the blessings we had all along. Now, now is what we have... wind and the high pitched chattering buzz of the playground, birds in swaying trees and a treasure chest of lovely times. We live forever in the hearts of those we loved.




















