"You don't need to push me on the swing anymore Grama. I can get up by myself."
It took her a while to gather momentum, but up she went. By herself.
Spread your wings, little bird, and fly. Fly high.
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The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day
I really wish that we wore poppies year round, or had regular days when we were grown up and open-handed and, yes, open hearted in support...
it's got to be heart-opening and heart-rending at the same time, somehow.
ReplyDeletesniff. i think the same is coming to our house soon.