Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Start (01/16/06)
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TITLE: Letting Go | Previous Challenge Entry
By Deborah Bauers
01/23/06 -
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She nestles him close, and for the moment, there is only him.
Two dark pools of liquid reflection, and he's gazing back into her face.
There was another time, long ago, when she looked up at me with those same eyes.
I held her then and cuddled her close, and there was only us.
Now she holds her little son, murmuring softly, a language that only he can understand.
Across the room our eyes meet, and an unspoken apology punctuates the silence.
She knows I'm hurting; knows, but does not understand.
But then... neither do I.
The pain of separation catches me unaware; I watch her go to him.
Blond hair and a winsome smile, and she's raptly drinking in his face.
I hungrily watch, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of my little girl,
To greedily hold her close and for one brief moment, fill up her world -with me.
Now she holds the hands of a man, murmuring softly in words that only he can hear.
Across the room my eyes cloud with tears as memories fill up the space between us.
Be happy for me - Her eyes plead; she does not understand.
But then... neither do I.
I nestle him close, and for the moment, he is the best part of her.
Two dark pools of liquid reflection and I'm gazing into his tiny face.
He looks at me with those same eyes; he has his mother's eyes.
I hold him now and for one brief moment, he fills up my world.
And then, Goodbye, she says, as they gather up their lives, whispering of home.
She crosses softly to the door and turning, offers a smile; and then she's gone.
She lightly dismisses me; she does not understand.
But then... how could she? I'm only starting to let go...
Copyright 2006
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I recently had 60 seconds of heaven that I must tell you about. My 29-year-old daughter was very sick. Her dad and I happened to be visiting from out-of-state...her boys played loudly in the living room. I opened her bedroom door to see her sitting forlornly on the edge of her bed, hair stuck to her sweaty, feverish face. She looked so thin and shrunken to me. I walked quietly to her side, held her head against my chest, stroked her flowing auburn hair as in days of old...and whispered, "I always did covet your hair...it's so thick..."
It had been years and years since any such exchange, and yet she leaned into me and let me run my fingers through her hair as I cried some quiet tears...my baby came home for those few seconds. Then she pulled away and stood up, and sort of staggered out of the room to become the mom again in spite of her fever...and I let her...because that's the example I set for her years before.
Love...its sacrifice is so powerful.......and ongoing.