Loving traces

Several years ago I read a book titled "Paths of Desire" by Dominique Browning. The book is not only about Ms. Browning's gardening troubles, but also on her experiences on family, lost love, and renewal. Her observations are witty, deep, and quite humorous. Having children of my own made me really understand what she meant when she wrote: "Teenagers can break your heart. Only by accident will you find out what they know-and it turns you inside out."

Both my children are no longer in their teens and while we are still very close, they are often busy inmersed in their wonderful young world. Chasing his dreams, my son has moved abroad and will not be here for the holidays. I am sure that all mothers who read this post will understand what this means to me. I have been trying to stay cheerful, but even as I was putting up the tree I was also fighting back the tears. Then this morning, just when I thought he did not care, at least not the same way I do :) I found the most beautiful e-mail.

My son will not be here for the holidays, but the traces of his loving words have filled my heart.


Note- Photo by Weheartit.com

Sometimes, mysteriously...

Sometimes in the evening when love

tunes it's harp and the crickets

celebrate life, I am like a troubadour

in search of friends, loved ones,

anyone who will share with me

a bit of conversation. My loneliness

arrives ghostlike and pretentious

it seeks my soul, it is ravenous

and hurting. I admire my father

who always had advice in these matters,

but a game of chess won't do, or

the frivolity of religion.

I want to find a solution, so I

write letter, poems, and sometimes

I touch solitude on the shoulder

and surrender to a great tranquility.

I understand I need courage

and sometimes, mysteriously,

I feel whole.

A poem by Luis Omar Salinas
Photo by Magicka.com