Since Kelvin Sr. passed away and my brother Doral immobilized me with his funeral words, I started collecting thoughts that might capture and present my feelings for my mothers eventual passing. I realized that it might take years for me to find the right words about Arta. Like skipping stones along the beach I have been picking up and saving these ideas in my mind trying to find the best ones. That way when I finally have to try and skip my stone.... well, it will make the most ripples in the lake.
But I will begin to throw some of these stones. I have collected too many stones and I do no service by keeping them to myself. These thoughts are best shared.
The Story of Peter Pan. *stone 1*
I have read the story of Peter Pan to my children enough times that memories have been planted in all of them. I will go straight to my favorite part of the story. Straight to the stone.
Late in the story, Wendy is in the hideout with the children talking about mothers. She in fact sings of a mothers love, and all of the Pirates hiding outside laying in wait in their ambush begin to cry.
Even hardened criminals. Pirates, thieves, bandits, scoundrels began to cry when thinking about their own mothers. This softens my heart to imagine that the most evil souls on this planet probably melt as I do when thinking about being away from their mothers.
Watching you skip that stone has me wanting to drive to the lake before work, to squeeze in some time in Larch Haven, collecting rocks, looking for more "skippers."
ReplyDeleteArta, you must have skipped a thousand stones, but in the memories I can pull up, you aren't out preforming the perfect skip, you are showing children how to find the "perfect skipper" for them, for their hand, that tucks comfortably into that nook if Peter Pointer.
Richard, thank you for the gift of releasing more tears. I didn't think I had anymore left. Now that they have finished skipping down my cheeks, I feel the grief has transformed into an invisible stone I will always have with me, a stone that will reappear in my hand after I give it my best windup and follow through each day.
ReplyDeleteNow that Bonnie has written such tender comments, Richard I have one thing to say to you. Stupid Richard -- making me cry first thing in the morning. Jerk.
ReplyDeleteI'll never read Artas Blog. She keeps trying to get me to read it. I won't do it.
ReplyDeleteHa! Your secret is out. Not only do you read it, you know how to put up your own post.
DeleteThis memory of yours reminds me of the time I went skipping stones on the beach with Steve, and ended up loosing a rock that hit him right in the nuts. Dropped him to the ground. He still asserts that I did that on purpose (since he was standing behind me and some distance away). I will admit that in my enthusiasm to demonstrate my skills, I was a bit late on the release. Still.... i do worry about your skipping stones metaphor.
ReplyDeleteStraight to the nutz!
DeleteGreat read!
ReplyDeleteLoved this!
ReplyDelete