my chubby fingers reached for the christmas ornament and mom tentatively placed the shiny sphere in my hand. within seconds, it was on the ground, in pieces. to this day, whenever i reach for something delicate, i hear mom’s singsong voice: globu, globu! it reminds me that, as a two-year-old, i begged for and was entrusted with a treasure, only to fail miserably as its steward.
the 26-year gap between that christmas and today seems to have done little to shake the feeling that i cannot handle the fragile. it is enough to make me hesitate before i reach out. i pause for a moment and consider: can't i enjoy this beautiful thing without touching it, without risking it? perhaps i can relish it by observation, rather than experience. we will both be safer that way.
even the things i love most – especially the things i love most – i am bound to be too aggressive with, to smother, to crush. my fingers are not nimble enough, my grip is too tight, and i find myself counting down to the inevitable disappointment of loss.
~ adapted from my "soul paper," 2004.
1 comment:
i love you.
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