As I fell asleep last night my hand opened to reveal 365 worn grains of sand – each like an empty package, with ribbon and bows strewn about… each grain of sand, like a day in the past year, tiny in comparison to the full scheme of things.

As my body relaxed and drifted into a much needed slumber, my fingers fell open, allowing the grains of sand to fall through my fingers – landing deep within my memory, where they will be stored.

Many will remain on the memory shelf untouched, never be seen again, and others will be pulled off of the memory shelf , to be examined and experienced again when needed…

This morning when I awoke my hand was filled with 365 new grains of sand, all neatly in place, still wrapped in shiny paper, adorned with ribbon and bows – each grain of sand representative of the days to come. Each to be opened one at a time, every 24 hours.

The contents within each is a hidden mystery only to be seen when the time is here.

Today I will put the yesterday’s to rest… and move in to the tomorrow’s.

I am but one person in a vast expanse of many. My voice is quiet and many times gets lost when given among many. There are times when I wonder when this voice is quiet, once and for all, if it will be remembered, missed.

I have to trust that it will. It is a sad thought to think otherwise.

But what about those words that never get spoken – the ones that remain silent, running around in my head? The thoughts that sometimes haunt me in silent moments deep in the night, the ones that fly as if a whirlwind gone before they ever come into sight? Those words and thoughts that I am still trying to make sense of?

I am here, right now, in this spot, in this moment for some reason.

A reason I do not know, or one that my conscious mind cannot comprehend – but I know there is a reason, otherwise what would be the purpose?

Do you believe that you have a purpose, even if you do not consciously know what that purpose is? Do you ever wonder, when your voice is silent if others will remember?

Do you ever wander along the dark hallways of your mind, looking for a door that you know is there, somewhere in the silence waiting for you, and that when you open that door everything of your entire being will suddenly come into focus?

Do you ever just wonder?

There is something beautiful in witnessing the Innocence of discovery!

This little snuggle bunny has captivated this grandma’s heart in a way that is so pure and intense.

Surrounded by toys, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, playing happily when he stops… Something has caught his eye.

The stitching on his overalls!

Toys forgotten for a moment as his little fingers reach inward to see what it is his eyes have spotted. The pure innocence of discovery!

I don’t know if I can explain the depth of emotion this simple picture pulls from my heart – but the first time I seen this picture on my computer screen as I watched my photo program pull in the images – and the many times I have viewed it since – my breath catches and tears form in my eyes.

Having watched my own children grow from this stage of innocent discovery to the young adults they are today, I know how fast this stage will fly by. The stage of innocence – the stage of innocent discovery.

When do we loose that?

As days, weeks, months and years move by, as in a blur. Somewhere – somehow we have forgotten to open our eyes, our hearts, our arms to discovery.

I don’t know what life has to offer my grandchildren – I can only pray that life will treat them kindly. Will give them peaceful moments where nothing matters but the moment.. the moment of innocent discovery.

I hope that somehow, one day, as they move quickly through their days – as the breeze of a summer day catches a lock of hair, to blow it softly over their eyes – they will turn and know that I am there, reminding them of these days – These days that are filled with the innocence of discovery!

As I swing the heavy mop across the floor I could not help but feel frustrated – it seemed I was forever having to mop up muddy footprints. It seemed that I would just get the floor clean and those footprints would somehow magically appear again.

As I continued to mop in preparation of the birthday celebration we were about to host – the 23rd birthday of my 3rd daughter my mind began to wander. Where had the time gone that this little girl of mine was now a grown woman? Was it not just yesterday that I hear the back door slam as she excitedly ran into the house to show me her latest treasure? Was it not last night that I pulled out the bucket of hot water, got on all fours and washed the floor in this very same room?

As I continued with the task at hand… the mop suddenly became very heavy in another way. It seemed to be pulling away from me – moving backwards in time somehow, as if there was some force out there trying to re-adjust my way of thinking.

A little girl screaming through the house as her sister ran after her while between breaths of giggles and laughter trying to convince the elder one – it’s cute – it’s little – you have to see it!

As I lifted the mop to the bucket of water for yet another rinse my thoughts continued on. Another little girl with bright red hair standing in this very room, big blue eyes looking up at me with all the innocence only a child can give. In a voice as sweet as any angel she asks “Can we keep her mommy? She is so cold!” – shaking my head at the memory of that day a tear forms in the corner of my eye as I think about this little girl, her granny and the soaking wet kitten rescued from the barn. What a dear friend Suzy became to all of us!

The little boy with his soulful eyes and deep voice who can melt this mother’s heart in an instant, standing in the doorway needing a container. “It’s for my special rocks mom” – I cannot help but wonder what happened to those rocks?

As I turn the corner of the dining room towards the hall where not so long ago the bathroom used to be. I stopped and listened to the splashes in my mind.

This is the very spot that the old bathtub used to sit. It was here that I would kneel to wash away the remnants of a full day of play. It was here that I would carefully pour water over my children’s hair to rinse out the last of the soap. Chuckling I remind myself this is also the room where my girl stuff would disappear. How my eldest used to love to sneak into the makeup bag and experiment with the contents within. In such a hurry she was to be grown up.

As I look around the new hall I remember the old. The door is different now but in the same spot as it was years ago. The stairwell is now gone, and one can no longer see through to the living room that is now the library. How the ghosts of the past love to linger in this area! The wall lined with shoes, the school bags – and Taffy! I smile the knowing smile of a mother as I think of the flattened little teddy bear that my son still has to this day. The patter of little feet as they head up the stairs for the bedtime story.

As I finish up with my mopping I turn to look back at my work. The footprints of now are gone, left in its place are the footprints of then.

This old house has changed over the years, but the memory of my children’s growth is imbedded in the footprints of today.

It is raining again today, which means by tonight there will be more footprints on my clean floor, but somehow it does not frustrate me anymore … as I come to realize that the footprints I mop up tomorrow will be tucked away forever forever in my heart.

Originally Written 2005

Yesterday on my walkabout, (yes I am still doing the loop) I was trying to notice things that normally my eyes would pass over.

I came across some very colorful leaves, some flowers, birds, but the one thing that caught my attention and took my breath away was when I rounded the corner to the garden and I came across this scene…

In an instant I was transformed back to 1973 – back to 16 years old – back to the days when my biggest worry was the math assignment due the next day.

Glistening as if white gold – handle bars like a wild sheep’s horns – my 10 speed – my freedom – my way to fly!

It may sound odd – but to that 16 year old girl with the long blonde hair it was everything in the world she wanted. It was a way for her to escape from the world that was closing in on her. It was her stab at freedom – for a time it was her reality. It represented everything she wanted to be, every thing she was, in ways she did not even realize at the time.

Life moved on –

Several years ago my dad brought this bike out to the farm. “I thought you would want your bike. Maybe the kids would like to ride it”

There was a silent internal gasp of horror as my eyes took in the scene before me. The handlebars had been modified in a ghastly upright position. There were fenders where there were none before, and a basket had been added.

The indignation of it all!

“I rode it for a time” my dad explained “but I had to do a few modifications to make it work for me – how you ever rode it the way it was I will never know”

I just smiled, but somewhere way down deep my heart broke a little that day.

This past spring Jamie was doing some cleanup around the farm, loading stuff to take away to the dump. He had quite a pile collected, bits of metal, old fencing and such. “What do you want me to do with that old bike?” he asked.

“Keep it” I said.

He never questioned that fact, or even asked me why, and for that I am forever grateful, for it would be to hard to explain.

I will never ride that bike again; but I will never get rid of it either.

My bike is leaning against the garden fence now.

I think I will clean it up, perhaps repaint it. Maybe with Jamie’s help I can get the handlebars back to how they were, take off the fenders and remove the basket. Maybe I will prop it up in my garden and let the bean plants grow up through the spokes – or perhaps I will put it in with the roses, and allow the roses to create a blanket over it – but I am not getting rid of it.

Some dreams are meant to be held on to – this is one of those dreams!

It is told that when I was a few months over a year old, I was still not walking on my own. It was my grandmother who solved the problem.

I was able to stand, and walk quite well while holding onto a single finger of another person, so my grandmother took me for a walk one day, but instead of offering her finger to me for balance she handed me the other end of a piece of string she held in her hand.

Happily that toddler took that end of string, and with all the security in the world walked with her grandmother. After a time the grandmother dropped her end of the string. The toddler walked on with no problems. For several weeks the toddler would revert back to crawling or walking around furniture until someone handed her the piece of string, and then off she would go. Then one day the toddler dropped the string.

It was on that day she learned to fly! The world was hers…..

I think of my grandmother often. I miss her dearly, but she is never far from me. The lessons she taught me stay with me today. When I feel alone in the world it is her voice that I hear whispering in my ear – reminding me of that piece of string – reminding that I can do it – that I am not alone – that I will always have that piece of string and can use it when ever I need it.

Yesterday I went into the kitchen. Opened the drawer and pulled out the box that held the string that Jamie and I keep in the kitchen. I pulled out a length, cut it, held it in my hand with my eyes closed I thought of my grandmother. Again I heard her voice.

After a time I put the string in my pocket.

I think I will keep the piece of string close to me for a little while – a silent reminder – one that I need right now.

As parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles we get so busy living life we forgot to live! Somewhere along the way we forget what it is like to be a child.

As we fight for our future we have to remember that our world today is our children’s reality. They are not thinking ahead in time like we are – they are wondering why we don’t have time today!

It appears that in our rush to ensure we all have a future with a bigger house, a better car we have forgotten who we are fighting for! I would like to make a plea to everyone to look down. Look beside you. Look across the street. See that little person there? The big eyes and the scared look belong to them. As you continue to whisper about solutions with your partner, with your friends, coworkers, neighbors don’t forget who is listening. Don’t leave that little person in the shadows, for is it not him or her you are fighting for?

As you busy yourself with your everyday tasks, are you so busy living life that you are forgetting to live? When was the last time you sat down and listened to the children in your life? What are you doing today to shape this little person so he does not repeat the same mistakes you have made over the years? Are you so full of despair and urgency that you are forgetting to teach, forgetting to love, forgetting to live?

These little people are the ones that will be taking over when our work here is done, it is them that will have to live in the world that we have created – ask yourself this, is this future world the one I want the children I love to live in?

Can you put yourself on the backburner for one day in order to ensure this crazy world of ours has a chance at a real future?

Talk to a child today – take the time to listen – they have a lot to teach you!