"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Golden Threads

     I choose to believe that there exist invisible threads, cords of memory, shimmering with love, which connect us to all those who have lived before and who have loved us.  I can still feel the presence of my mother and see the steady look out of those clear blue eyes, even though she is no longer in this mortal life. My Danny's heart is still woven into my own and sometimes I swear I can feel him breathing on my neck, as though he were standing behind me. He is in that other place, that parallel existence through which love may pass but not sight, not touch, except in dreams.  ( I love dreams because, in my dreams, sometimes Danny comes by and gifts me with a gentle kiss. So nice. I do not care if it is merely my memories of past kisses or not, to me, in that moment of sleep, the kisses are real. Please don't bother me with science at that particular juncture.)
     There are also cords of love and connection between those whom we love who live far away from us.  Why else would they randomly pick up the phone after months or years of no contact, on the particular night when we are most broken and alone, and say--Hey there, you've been on my mind all day. What's up?--They felt us tugging on the cord and came to our aid. That's what love does. Sometimes we still need to be held close to someone's heart, as we were when we were very small. We need to feel again that loving hand upon our back, slowly moving up and down, giving comfort.  I do not believe we ever out-grow that. I don't want to out-grow it. As my grand-kids will tell you, I think everyone is the perfect size for hugging.

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