Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Learning to Walk

Daughter’s eyes are a darker shade
of her mom’s; captivating blue greens.
At eighteen years, though, no one yet has
gazed into those eyes and whispered
of their beauty. Time brings with it
unimaginable possibilities.

The wind shivers across the water
on a chilly late August day; Otter Tail
County, Minnesota. Every shade of
blue and green moving with the
infinite possibilities of weekend
cabin dwellers.

Gone for the week. Returned to the
day jobs they may or may not have
trained for in college, leaving behind
lonely lakes, eager for a chance to
restore equilibrium after mini gasoline
spills from noisy wave runners.

The eleventh-month-old baby toddles
across the floor with the wide-spread
swagger of a new walker, waving a
turkey baster found in the drawer; mama
juice still dripping from his chin.

There are all kinds of small hands, Mr.
cummings, and everywhere they see
untainted potential. Even in the midst
of this current contractor’s mess, the
result of a leaky pipe.

No perfect romance, no perfect dwelling,
no perfect child. There are, however,
perfect moments. Even perfect days,
laced with unending blue green hope.

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