Cord blood, a nameless gift of deep, dark purple made its way slowly into my son's soft, five year old arm, while on his bed a toy train traced an oval track, blowing smoke for show.
With unveiled irony, a massive oak dressed Caleb's window with perfect red leaves -- pretty and poised to fall.
Today, a melancholy song blows in quietly with the autumn breeze.
I remember holding hope then. Then great lament. Lament, but then, not without Great hope.
Wind and sky, even sidewalk trees with gilded leaves re-sound notes low and deep, like witnesses or companions to costly things I store and ponder. And I am not afraid to remember this day.
3 comments:
You took me right back with your words.
Achingly beautiful for this fall day. We will never forget all of the beauty and the pain we have witnessed on this journey. Love to you today.
Just saw your blog post for the first time. Thanks for sharing your memory.
Love you,
Adela
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