The robins are back, sizing up the wreath hanging on my door. I can’t remember a year when they haven’t built a nest somewhere in our front yard. Ahead are weeks of bird shit on the porch and mama swooping at us as we enter and exit the house. It delights me every spring.
Green things are poking up through winter dead leaves. My grandmother’s bluebells that she brought with her from England over 100 years ago and a bumper crop of dandelions.
There are family gatherings, egg-hunts, skipping songs, abandoned coats… and there is more light, little by little each morning, stretching longer and longer into the evening.
And, along with the light come memoried shadows, dark and heavy. My little kitchen is crammed with family. I ache to squeeze one more chair around the table. The grand-kids’ laughter bounces off the walls. I see corners empty with cousins they might’ve had. My children and their partners talk, debate, challenge… ideas spark around the room. Their chatter is music. I hear the sweet notes missing in the song.
Skirting around and through shadow and light is my spring dance, my life dance, really. I don’t kick against it any more. I embrace it. I give it room.
Here’s to your spring. Whatever light and shadow it brings, kick up your heels and dance.
My grandaughter, Gemma, embracing the dance!
Love this post. Happy dancing!
Thanks, Marie. Enjoy the dance as well.
Wonderful, Heather. So very real. And the picture of Gemma is beautiful.
Thanks, Cathy. She does love to twirl in a fancy dress. Her sunshine spirit certainly brings the light.
Really great post Heather. We had a wonderful time with you all. Your words and this picture flow beautifully together.
Gemma, left to daycare this morning wearing a special coat given to her by her nana – it’s her favorite.
Keep up the great posts! ☺
You all certainly fill up the spaces with light. I’m so grateful for each one of you.
One, two, three…one, two, three…one,two,three…I am right there on the dance floor with you sister dear. Rise and fall, feel each beat of the heart, keep moving your feet and dance…one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three….
To borrow from Cohen, we will, ‘Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in…’
Brought tears to my eyes.
They’re. Their. There. Feel better?
WOW!! AWESOME
~~~ oh how I miss seeing those Robins nesting at your front door
Wasn’t it fun watching me turn into a crazy woman when I was chasing cats away.
I think we were both ready to at least temporarily maim if not kill Lisa’s son when he climbed your tree & smashed all the Robin’s eggs & nests.
We’ll we saved more than we lost, didn’t we. So we’ll have to delight in that dear neighbour.
Heather such a great post! It describes perfectly “Where joy and sorrow meet” ! That is a hymn I tell Meg I want at my funeral. We adore our grandchildren but the yearning for us as bereaved parents never fades really !
Thanks for the connection, Gail. Hearing from you adds more light at a shadowy time, and yes, life will always be bittersweet for us.
This was waiting in my emails this morning:
“If I could wake up each morning and see that photo of the little child dancing in the sunlight, my soul would smile.
I am so touched by her. She makes all the past hurts melt away and I see hope ahead.
Ivy”
Thank you, Ivy. That hope shines through the shadows is a wonderful gift to me.
What a day, just past. The shadow of March 30th always obliterates the sun. Long years have passed, still the memory, clear as glass cuts deeply. I have mourned with you and then at a distance, but always my heart’s tears streak rivulets, carving loss in hidden places.And ignorant as my grief may be; for how can I fully know your pain, I yearned for your ease, some relief from the blisters scorching you soul .
I watched you stumble and fall deep in your grief. And yet, here you are, today, dancing. Light and shadow merge, move in and out and around.
Beautiful, you are.
I honor you. Xo
Thank you, Judy. Long ago Ben pointed out to me that a painting without shadow and light is flat and lifeless. Both the light and the heavy shadows give my life meaning and depth.