I wish you could see the time stamp on the photos. That’s how unbelievable the phenomenon has become, this raining of feathers, this prayer answered so directly, so distinctly.
(In fact, I wouldn’t believe me if I were you.)
And still it’s true. All of it.
The summer has passed in an instant. I fully expected it; that’s a benefit of facing Eliza’s Grand College Departure for the third time. And yet there is more this time, another layer of poignant. It has to do with the rain, I think, and the unexpected 70-degree days here in July’s thick midsection. I keep waiting for summer to arrive—true summer—so she and I can make the most of it, together. But it’s as if the season’s a late dinner guest and I’m a fretting hostess. It’s fine, no big deal I say out loud to no one at all as the voice in my head teases and taunts everything’s already ruined.
And so we are here, her end-of-summer liberation approaching fast as I (the Mom) grab desperately for mementos of June.
It is the thought I had on my mind as I woke up this morning, a rousing that was bitter and sweet. Circumstances are such that I have been alone for two days and the entire episode has served as not much more than a sobering reminder of the emptiness of August. I chastised myself for a moment, attempting to summon strength and a quick return to the more sensible me.
Then there again, through the big kitchen window, I saw the glints on the muddy pond.
It can’t be I thought, not again.
It’s too early.
We’ve two more weeks before she goes.
My heart was lifted again, a powerful reminder that life is good; God is good; I am loved.
The first time: September 17, 2011 the things that we believe in
The second time: May 4, 2012 Feathers, Blessing and Miracles