Pieces of Earth

The Sun passes into her final quarter of sky, and the day becomes a lovely Spring evening that wraps like delectable silk around my out-stretched fingers and newly exposed toes. The lushness of grass and clover, the delightful brassiness of dandelions, and shy beauty of violets surround me, a Winter urchin, rubbing her eyes in disbelief at the bounty of green and good. My parents, my two little pieces of Earth, came back into my consciousness this week, and the day before Mom's birthday was studded with poignant questions. What would you say to your mother and father, if you could let loose on the heart-channel you intuitively sense runs directly between you? The words themselves, Mother and Father, leave a sacred taste on the tongue, a taste untarnished by the wrongs mere humans have made to one another. Those crazy people who one senses could be the truest of friends to you if only you saw eye to eye, if only the march of years and experiences could allow for a moment of heart song. To stare across an ocean of meaning at another person, one who was given to you in recognition of your deeper spiritual needs in this lifetime. So alike, yet so far away, we pass by time together in moments of silliness, in moments of dancing around the chord sounding between us. Unspeakable significance, unfettered longing for the welfare of the other, a gift wrapped up in a person, a strange, familiar unknowable person, to drive us crazy with the sensing of the unattainable. What would I say to my mother and father, if given the chance? The words would fail me, maybe the words would fail them, and we’d continue on, in unspeakable companionship and love.