my arms are empty
but my heart is full.
Surprised by the discovery of
not one but two miracles -
that of a baby, another granddaughter,
and that of watching
my little girl suddenly a mother.
Witnessing the partnership
between mother and father
as they find their new rhythm,
making room in their lives for another.
Awed by the responsibility.
Trusting in such love.
So many people enter our home,
making it a sacred place
simply by their presence
and their search for what is...
perhaps holy is the right word?
The Little One
who furrows her brow,
squints her eyes,
and then bursts into a smile,
or sometimes an indignant cry.
Either way,
it's the most beautiful thing.
Watching my mom,
holding her great granddaughter,
in the same way she once held me,
representing four generations.
Bound tightly by a shared name.
Witnessing my daughters,
who drift apart in their own directions,
pulled closer together once again
by the love that so easily fits into your arms,
one hand under the round bottom,
the other patting gently on her back,
making it impossible to find a reason
to set her down.
This morning the house is quiet.
It is just the two of us. Again.
Another miracle, easier to miss.
A compatible ease.
Yes, miracles abound.
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