It’s in that little breath of wind that sweeps across your face as you walk on the river shores alongside the one you’ve chosen. Or was chosen for you. Do we know? Will we ever? It is not important, as long as you understand that magic is part of it.
The wind, ever so softly reaching for the leaf that fell asleep on the sand and laying it gently on the water. Swirl, swim, reach another shore, rest, and then go again. Thoughts do too, those inner birds that make nests of who we were yesterday to shelter who we will become tomorrow. Today is the in between, today is where you take a deep breath, feel the sand crunch under your feet, and count it as a blessing. Among many others.
Little boy runs ahead, making swirls of glittery sand with bare feet. His feet are still pudgy from the childhood that clings onto him like a magic thistle. Boys and the swirls of glitter add to the wonder of our day celebrating the commitment made a year ago.
Follow, follow my steps, the dusk light calls… Take wind and water and sand sparkles, make a castle. Could that last? What lasts? Nothing that we can touch with our bare hands can. The commitment we make in our heart does, the feeling that come what may, you will have the courage to keep searching for the sliver of sunshine that finds cradle in the eyes of the one you’ve chosen.
What have we learned this whole past year? Have we learned to sail better? To see the storms, to take shelter but also brave them when too much is at risk if you choose to hide?…
We walk, our tracks enveloped by tiny sand storms we create as we tread along. Walk ever so gently, storms will come your way, life happens. Keep on walking, the wind says, keep on… it’s there, the warmth you seek, summer’s breath buried in the sand, the hand that your hand has learned the warmth of.
It will take yours, if you let it, again, to have and hold, for better or worse. There are hands that will keep your heart cradled forever.
Boy running, sparkles of words upon discovering a treasure someone left behind. ‘It’s a crater, Mama, look!’
Little boy runs ahead, walks through a portal of two branches stuck in the sand like a gate to the inner space that loops like a crater.
‘Who made this, Mama?’ I shrug. ‘Teenagers, I think…’ Little boy smiles. He knows.
Hugs, skies darted with long thin clouds, water whispers, colours that paint our hearts happy.
The lady came out of nowhere and said ‘This look like the beginning of a beautiful home. I’ll take a photo of you two.’ So she did. We will remember this. We kept on sitting there for a while, the two of us. The branches and the barely warm sand, the gentle river songs, boys who play and make the day complete.
The promise of what’s to come, the learning we carry with us through portals of branches that remind us of the day we promised:
To keep on going, never let the uphill be anything else but worthy journey. To hope.
To press on, to believe in the magic that made us take the first steps. To follow the winding road.
To choose to see, to forgive, to understand what is and isn’t, to build, to rebuild, to play.
To taste the day that is, to know that there is only one of each. To let it touch our souls.
To remember the simple things and the silence of hearts seeping sunsets. To hug.
To speak up, to write, to say the words, to say them loud enough, as loud as can be, knowing that holding hands is holding on and that counts as words spoken.
To not brush over, to never close eyes and heart, to be kind, to live fully. To feel.
To tread gently. To be brave and scared, to say it, to hear it, to learn humbleness. To live with it. To wake up in wonder.