Hello
Do you remember me?
I used to come to talk to you most every day,
Leaning across the back fence of your mind,
Picking at the splinters in the rail,
Looking up at the clouds with a cocked eye,
Wondering with you about the rain.

Do you remember
The sweet release of walking across campus on a spring day
When the sun was intense and the breeze cool?
When the sheer joy of being engaged in a project worth doing
Hung playfully in the air
And the energy of shared purpose kept us fully engaged?

Do you remember
When movement felt good?
When arms swinging, backpack singing, legs reaching,
Were part of the joy of the journey?
When the caress of walking through waist-high wildflowers
And their gentle, moist presence
Brought a soul-deep green into your day?

Do you remember
The sleeping child upon your lap
Whose unconscious move to snuggle deeper into comfort
Was also a deep comfort to you?
When the flash of curious question in their eyes
Fed your soul with wonder?
When spontaneous smiles erupted for bugs and stones and anything fuzzy?

Do you remember
The comfort of sitting quietly together
Watching the sunset?
When the palpable sense of belonging to each other
Made words redundant?
Do you remember the touch of love?

Do you remember me?
I still come to talk to you most every day,
I still pick at the fence and look at the clouds.

I do remember. Thank you.

I am grateful, today, for the call to remember the richness of my life.
I am grateful for these whispered memories
For each small glimpse of wonder and connection.
They feed my soul with grace, again,
Just as they did before.

[photo by Bunches and Bits {Karina} per cc 2.0]