Yellow winged fairy
perched gently on buttercups
delicate beauty.
Loveliness knows not
the emotions it evokes
like butterfly wings.
We watched a swallowtail yesterday evening. It was engaged in a frolic we could not understand, flirting with drops of water remaining after a thunderstorm.
The darned thing was lovely in every sense of the word–brilliantly yellow, graced with wispy wings edged in black, graceful in flight–yet completely oblivious to our admiration, and unaware of its own beauty.
Don’t forget, we are all beautiful. You are beautiful.
In the last trimesters of my two pregnancies my mind and body went into high states of anticipation. Physically I was full of child, round and healthy, a walking, talking, glowing clichè. Who cared that we were young and totally unprepared? My body was saying, “Let’s do this!”
Not me.
Mentally I went into the hormone zone. At night I dreamt of having twins or triplets, and literally juggling them (even though I can barely handle more than one bag in real life without dropping it) or forgetting they existed at all until learning they were grown without having ever known me. Gotta love those pregnancy hormones.
Recently I began noticing a parallel between my late term pregnancy time and my current existence. You see every night before I closed my eyes to sleep back then I’d think, “What if this is the night I go into labor?”
Now, as I near sixty, I sometimes wonder at bedtime, “What if this is the night I die?” It’s not as morbid as it sounds. I’m a healthy woman. I sleep well and eat a reasonably nutritious diet. After my bout with early stage breast cancer I am religious about having regular mammograms and other preventative medical exams.
But it’s as if I’ve become pregnant with death.
I’m past those years of thinking I am invincible. I’ve lost friends who seemed full of life and possibility. I was with both of my parents as they died, and I was struck by just how effortless the final step was. They’d both suffered the indignities of long, painful illnesses, but when death finally came for them there was a release and a relief.
So sometimes at night the anticipatory thought comes to me. “What if this is it? What if this is the night I die?”
I say my prayers as always, for forgiveness, for the health and well-being of my family, for an end to wars, for any friends who’ve requested prayers, and I always end with a thank you. Because if I’m to go I want gratitude to be my final thought.
In the end I guess we are all “pregnant with death” and life is too precious to spend even a moment on dramas that separate families and friends. So forgive. And then forgive again.
I’m not a big Max Lucado fan, but this I agree with.
Peace, people
If I leave tonight
my spirit will stay with you I’ll love you always.
on hot summer days
the ice cream truck beckons youth
canned music piping
to heat-parched children
scampering through neighborhoods
clamoring for treats.
hey mister stop here!
mommy it’s the ice cream man!
may i have a dime?
please? i’ll fold towels.
we’ll mow the lawn tomorrow!
promises offered
some were even kept.
Praying for Eyebrowz 