#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charlie in the Meadow

Today I walked under the shelter of a perriwinkle meadow-blue sky. I woke early and walked early to be back in time for a client, and I didn’t have to rush. The meadow was calm. A few leaves fell lazily into the river. The wetlands are losing their lustre. Here is the moment of supreme happiness and satisfaction I had: in the late afternoon: My son came for our special birthday time for me. He said he would bring his flute and we’d sit outside in the yard. He had a present for me. As it turned out, my youngest wanted to come by too, with her birthday greeting, and we had a walk before my son arrived. And it turned out that Frank had a cancellation, and he would join us. I set up the chairs in a very wide, socially distanced circle. My son arrived and gave me his gift: he had blown up and framed the picture he took of me waiting in the meadow under the arch, on Mother’s Day this last, for him to arrive for a meditation. I love it so much! And then we sat and talked. Soon, my youngest joined us. We were just about to meditate and then my husband joined us. My son took out his flute and played. We closed our eyes in silence. Soon, I heard the dogs run to the driveway barking, a delivery truck. I sat very still. I heard my youngest get up and wrangle the dogs, and return. And I heard her drag something to the circle. But I kept my eyes closed. And then I heard another arrive. I opened my eyes for a quick half-second, and saw my other daughter had joined the circle. With my eyes closed, I just felt the presence of my three children and my husband circled in silence, sitting with intention, being with me just because they wanted to. And I felt, well, this is amazing, this circle of my life. How still and quiet we were together, choosing this intimate silence. Raising children is a vey very noisy proposition over decades. And then, there is this. All the noise gone. They can be still and reverent, making sure the circle holds.