Through the window
Monday, September 14, 2009
…newborn… primal…existing in its own place and time…rather than mine. A mist of fog at dawn softened all its blemishes…its rough spots at areas of neglect or natural consequences were out of focus. It was the opening day of my preschool class and it was a gentle…and very lovely…reminder to fine tune what I see, to put on a shelf my frustration with actions of true innocence that may come by the way of the wild things or the young charges in my life at present. Years ago, I had to drive late at night to pick up teenagers in a very thick fog and recall the nerve-wracking lack of visibility, but this day, there were no nerves, there was just a blanket tucked in around me, the birds chirping like a wind-up crib mobile and remembered feelings of safety and comfort and the hedge of childhood that guarded me against the hard edges that would come…
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