O Lord, I did walk upon the earth
and my footprints did keep pace with the rain
and I did note, I did note where orange birds
flew up from the puddles thou hast made
and where the toads leapt from your trenches,
but nowhere was there that I could go
for I could not rise from the firmament
upon which I was placed, and nowhere could I
so I kept until I could no more straight
then bent said I am down to make room for the more
and you half hearing did send me down
into the soul of another by mistakes
and I would like to thank you for it
from where I lie, risen in the eye of the other.
* * * * *
I am seizing a rare moment of Momo sleeping late to post. September has been down, down, up, down, up, and down again. More downs than ups. The most notable "up" is the birth of Shalom and Adam's beautiful little girl Zofia. I am so very happy that she is healthly--and that our girls were born in the same year!
Among the downs, I am sorry to report, is my Aunt Julie's death this past Monday. I keep returning in my mind to the fact that I won't talk with her again. It's unacceptable. We were starting to have these fantastic conversations about motherhood. When I thought I broke my foot Julie told me about how she broke her ankle when Paul was 2 years old and Ali was 3 months old. Uncle Rich was working full time, her only bathroom was upstairs, and her kitchen was downstairs. She had to crawl around her house with a newborn while chasing a toddler. "It was 6 weeks of hell!" she told me, even considering the cancer battle she was fighting as she told me. I certainly will miss her for her own sake, but with her passing I've lost another piece of Dad. Both Gran and Grandma gone, Dad and their infant eldest sister Frances, now Julie, leaving only Aunt Pat to keep all of their childhood memories alive. [Here is a link to her obituary in the Salisbury Daily Times.]
I hear Momo fussing. (And a car alarm?) Time's up.