When I hold a new crayon from a fresh box of colors,
it doesn’t matter
what color I choose,
for I will fill the page with all the colors.
When I draw the first line, squiggle or circle,
I am six years old again.
When I buckle a new shoe across my granddaughter’s foot,
I am five years old, trying on my first pair of patent leather shoes.
I will dance around in them,
watching how the light shines
on the shoes and the buckles.
When I sit on the floor to watch “Peter Pan”,
I am again seven years old,
and I am hoping
that Peter Pan
will appear at my window someday.
When I hear my husband’s laughter
I am a newly-wed and deeply in love.
When I see the photos of my children dressed in brand-new
I am again a young mother, thinking about the roast in the oven and Sunday afternoon.
Our lifelines are ruled by the clock and the rotations of the Earth,
But our lives are lived by “…the length, the breadth, and the depth…” of our