Yesterday I walked along Deer Creek for the first time in a full week. I walked otherwhere, meanwhile.
(I am caught, charmed, by those two words, are you? Otherwhere, meanwhile. Therein lies the whole world.)
A multitude of individual chickory flowers made a wash of blue up the sunny, north-east-facing slope in the meadow near the Ady Road bridge. A meadowscape full of summer blues and greens. High summer paints with a full palette, of course, but especially with blues and greens.
Last time I walked there the chickory blue didn't flare yet, but a section of the low, flat land near the creek glowed yellow with buttercups. Yesterday I searched the area where the small, golden faces had shown. The plants still stand in their place, the blossoms matured, closed and shifted to seed.
Otherwhere, meanwhile, last week included walks along the streets and paths where my granddaughter lives. She will soon be 13 months old. I am closing in on 800 months old. A person at 100 years-- easy math. Mother lived days short of 1037 months.
One explanation for why time seems to speed up as we age says that each passing day is a smaller proportion of the total life lived, hence the felt experience of each day shortens. Just like the long, summer-sun-measured days are already shortening toward winter. Yet I think it's more than that, though I have not words to explain.
Likewise, I have not words to explain the feeling of gazing into the eyes, the face, of this baby girl and seeing the eyes, the face, of my mother. This baby has her own mother's mouth (thank goodness!) but she has my mother's eyes. Mother's gray eyes. Baby's eyes are still blue, but sort of a steel blue, close to gray.
Beyond eye shape and color and overt face shape, there are the shadow expressions: the way Baby's eye lids fold as she focuses; the lift and droop of her cheek as she processes experiences; the shape and movements of her brow. All these things bring to my gut-heart-throat some yearning shiver that I can not elucidate clearly enough to translate into words. Perhaps you've had enough of a similar experience to already understand. To see Mother's face in Baby's face leaves me feeling breathless, awe struck, humbled by all we do not know.
Otherwhere, meanwhile...
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