Two years ago we were walking with our daughter on this Paint Creek trail in the snow. It was snowing enough to obstruct the view, and visibility was about a quarter mile. I had a "petite claudication" (... oh, well, a limp... I had a sore tendon or something. It sounds better in French.) and our daughter soon outpaced us and disappeared far ahead within the curtain of snow.
At times like that, I wonder if I shall ever see her again, or whether the excision by snow - the editing out of someone - is a permanent change. There was a history of illness, so to us, the parents struggling through the snow way behind the young one, such an unpleasant image was not the first one that ever occurred to us.
Soon she returned, a free snow bird winging her way back.
When she passed us again, she snorted in amiable disgust at our lack of vigorous speed.
It made us quite happy.
--
pix: attacksquirrel5 http://www.flickr.com/photos/30692081@N04/
Posts
2 comments:
It's the tiny little things that have all the value now. I cherish them when they occur.
I do, too. And I have found that they are not small after all. They do tend to be hidden and obscured, like my daughter walking ahead in a snow storm.
When I am able to really see... when all of us can really see, not blinded by our pre-occupations, not hobbled by our limping limbs (as in the story), we can see for hundreds of miles.
And those little things become massive, and the monsters of the every-day melt away like the winter snow.
Post a Comment