Monday, October 3, 2016

again

It is not new, the story of a day many days ago. Brought to life by the pressure of a contest deadline and a long-suffering husband. Late nights and sentences.

I try again. From life to prose, my simple days.

Titled and double-spaced. Letters knitted together into pictures. In an envelope and off into hands of those who know the craft of words.

Will they see it...the view from my page? I wonder all the while I wait.

What a surprise, then, to find an email from the contest chairperson. I read the words, a few of them. The ones that said "first place winner."

Read my words...and celebrate with me. (But don't critique my grammar...late nights and creative minds tend to overlook those things).


It was the way the sun shone- the air golden all around. Or perhaps the way the tree stood- full dressed in green. Together they painted a masterpiece on the sidewalk and she saw it. 

 I've always wondered the purpose of the walking paths in the parking lot of the local shopping center.  A burst of park like charm - lush, green grass and shrubs with tidy mulch skirts. A park with a cement path that goes nowhere in particular, unless one wanted to start at one random parking place and end at another. We took a stroll down one today.

 I parked our car in those spaces facing green- with purpose. My little companion was suffering the ill effects of auto motion while she cleverly designed doll clothes. I had reminded her, while on our way, that she should keep her eyes looking up and out the window. "But I just love making crafts," she said.  

 We exited the car and made our way to the lush grass. Sitting down together I held her on my lap and we breathed. And as the moments passed I watched her face; pale cheeks returned to color and dull eyes brightened. It was then that she saw it- the pavement beside us.

 "A path!" she cried and jumped to her feet."Come with me on a walk!"

I hesitated, my list heavy in my pocket, She danced around and the moment beckoned all of me. A little hand slipped into mine and we walked; I told her stories. Her laughter mingled with the honeyed air and I drank in the richness of this, here, now. 

 We walked to one side and turned around. Nearly to the end of our destination-less path, we were to pass a tree, its shadow stretched across the white trail ahead. "Let's play a game,"she said all of a sudden her eyes looking down. "Only step on the light."

 I had missed it, the bits of light that wove their way through the leaves and painted gold on the pavement. Grey and gold together as if splashed there. I marveled. How did I miss the radiance, see only shadow?  I stopped for a moment, my breath caught in my throat, and she tugged my arm. "Come on, mama."

We hopped across- our toes touching light. I felt it- a holy moment- where grace surrounds and life dissolves and all there is- this. The presence of God on the sidewalk in the gold tinted shade of a spring dressed tree.