It is strange how grief will sneak in and get you. Someone sent me a picture of the four us when we little, little kids. Playing and jovial. Big smiles and happy faces. And there she was, and I just was stunned by her memory. Memories burbled quickly to the surface. She has been gone for four years now, and there are actually days when I do not even think about her, like trees, deciduous trees whose leaves change, wither and fall to the ground. Then this picture comes and with it a flood of emotions – happy – because we were a tight, happy little family. Happy memories. Happy paired with grief and sadness – an illusion?
We laughed and she followed Running on light legs, Legs as thin as sticks, Knobby kneed and frail. She ran with Red hair shining, With Bright eyes, And Bright smiles. She was a summer child, Midnight sun and Dandelions. Like Thistles, Light as feathers She floated. Bare footed Dancing on silky lawns On sandy shores And Silver waters. She was a winter child, Snowflakes on eyelashes Rosy cheeks. Like Soft and downy flakes Under the glow Of streetlight She floated And twirled Arms wide, Eyes closed A joyful dance On a frosty night. We ran and she followed On dreams And hopes As fragile And light As downy thistle As temporary As a flake of snow. Beautiful But soon gone.