Memories! How we cherish the good ones, make them forever ours, polish them, enhance them, store them away, pull them out to comfort us in our old age.
Such is this memory of our grandson, now becoming a young man, but barely a toddler then.
How proud I felt, watching him go to that window, pointing and pronouncing that word with all the authority he could muster: "Outside!"
I just had to write a poem about it. I know ... I know ... it would embarrass the life out of him, if he were to find out that I had posted it here.
You won't tell, will you? Promise? Then here it is:
OUTSIDE!
"Outside!" he says,
tiny finger folding
as it touches the glass
of our dining room
window. "Outside!"
It carries the tone
of discovery, that ancient
"Eureka!" still echoing,
an air of possession.
He runs repeatedly
to the window, pointing
and exclaiming, savoring
this, another horizon
beckoning, a romance
budding, perhaps growing
until he's my age
and beyond, this love
of the outside world.
budding, perhaps growing
until he's my age
and beyond, this love
of the outside world.
© 1999
(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: beckoning
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