Thursday, May 19, 2011

easy. hard.

we needed something new today.
something not just everyday ... but a special today something ...
not just an everyday just across the street park visit ... but a hidden away we never go there park visit.

so we i packed the kids up and drove a few miles to the elementary school where i had grown up ...

(after first driving past my old house convinced that if the rock that i stole borrowed from the badlands was still there next to the mailbox that i might just possibly return it to it's rightful owner.)
it wasn't.

we played.  the girls ran.  stella scrambled across monkey bars.  cora scooted up climbers and ropes.  finners scrambled up and down and up and down.  occasionally pausing to point at a plane (and waving hi to daddy up there.)

we played.

and then i collected the kids and dragged them to the front of the building where i had seen some pops of gorgeous vibrant color as we drove up ...


and as we rounded the building i remembered. 

there was a little girl ... i can't remember for the life of me ... her name.  or if she was just a bit older.  or just a bit younger.
but i remember her.

that she lived.  once upon a time she lived in this corner of the world.  and she went to this same little school.  and she walked through these same little hallways.  and she opened that same door.  and she played on this dirt beneath my feet.  and her voice and giggles echoed through this air.  and then she got sick.  and then she died.


and in memory of her ... that little garden was planted. 

and i remember thinking it was nice of us to remember her that way ... though i was too young to fully understand that she was anything but gone from our little world.

and i told the girly girls the story of that little girl.
of course ... stella had a lot of questions.  hows?  and whys?  and wheres?
cora merely listened and softly stroked the petals of a purple tulip that was stretching it's elegant neck towards the last glimpses of the sun in the sky.


and as we walked through the garden and visited with the plants ... i couldn't stop thinking about her mommy. 

she had HAD this.  this exact very same thing that brightens my life.  she had her children there with her.  she had her daughter.  she had giggles in her day.  and chubby hands to grab hers.  she had eyes full of wonder.  and a life that depended upon her.  she had someone with wants.  and probably also occasionally felt swarmed by life.  and kids. 

had.

she HAD all those things.


i HAVE all those things.

have.

funny how such a little word can be so easily flipped and then flopped.  how easy life can feel and then how hard it can get and then how easy it can feel before it gets hard again. 


i feel so lucky tonight to have that flipping flopping ... easy.  hard.  easy.  hard.  easy.  hard.


7 comments:

Jackie said...

Wow Jen what an incredible moment of Gratitude. Lots of love to that Mommy who lost her daughter. Its nice to know that the garden is still there and that it made you remember that little girl...just as it was intended. The moment of Gratitude you had gives meaning to that little girl's life & death. Nice.

Galit Breen said...

This post is nothing short of STUNNING. I am WOWed. By *you!* XO

Mrs Gloves said...

What a great reminder! Beautiful post!

Naomi said...

love your word, these photos and that sun flare!

tracy@sellabitmum said...

THIS. is perfect. xo

CC said...

This is so beautiful. Sad. Lovely. And touching.

anymommy said...

Gorgeous words and your photography takes my breath away. It is good to remember that we have - and to remember how easily it can flip.