(Notes from this weekend…)
She slides close in the coming light and I bury my head in her tendrils, damp and tangled, this night halo she wears through dreamworlds. And then I remember. Today (I can hardly breathe) is the last day.
Tenderly sweeping back these gold strands from around her face, I watch her eyelashes flutter but a moment, her lips slightly open, breathdreams rising and falling softly. On this very pillow she lay the night she first breathed air of this earth, this sliver of heavenlight. That night I cupped her head in my hand, fragile moon, and slept the night us two nestled near, while lightning bugs blinked celebration at the edge of the woods. And in a blink I wake to this morning, to this, the last day of her being two.
Her and I, we’ve always only known two.
Two from the meeting, from the soundless, cosmic settling, the forever light unfurling, the knitting into me. Two from the watery womb swelling, her skin stretching mine, her heart staccatoing under mine, us two in time together.
Cutting the cord on the emerging day changed everything and nothing at all. Heads close on this pillow, we breathed into each other faces. My life flowed out, nourishing hers. Our skin now touched, melded, us two. Though two, we lived entwined, mingled, one.
But today two slips away and she, this gift child, blooms three.
The intake of breath, the realization, pierces sharp.
But He comes quick, soothes with Truth, ” But hasn’t Two always been Three?”
And I close eyes, nod a half smile, caress her soft cheek, and slip out of bed to bake a cake for tomorrow in the peace of always Three.
“A cord of three strands is not quickly broken” ~Ecc. 4:12
Lord, braid us, these ones near to us, our lives around You, a strong strand for these days…
(To those who sent Shalom birthday wishes, you make us smile, together we delight, and we thank you for sharing this journey with us… We’ll write soon…)
