A time, quiet,
filled with golden light.
Sunshine streaming in the window.
Breezes, soft, warm, and then cool.
Happy, gentle traffic,
vehicles pulling people to work, to home.
Same road, same lights, every day.
Change was only visible by the backpacks which emerged one warm afternoon.
The yellow buses began their dutiful service.
But for us, there was only the room, the house, the sidewalk, the trees, the sky.
A globe, smaller and more calm, in which we contentedly dwelled.
Each day we learned more about each other.
Each day we saw something new,
the face of the other ever original, ever remarkable.
The eyes, the cheeks, the arms, the tummy, the thighs, the feet,
these were it.
The most beautiful creation. The most astonishing creature.
This body, to support that one. This body, meant for this time.
The bedroom, the open windows, the quiet promise every afternoon,
the sleepiness settles over us.
The time will come, I knew then.
The time did come.
I returned to the larger world, the louder one, the faster one.
But those golden, quiet months hang like a drop of light,
forever.
I know that time was precious, unrepeatable, and limited.
In my heart, in my memory,
that soft existence
is what I will cherish.
This was my first-born time, my daughter’s time.
Beautiful!