My mind requires an occasional stroll down a rhythmic path as it tries to make sense of the world around me. Today, as I was browsing through pictures from this past weekend I found myself wandering down such a path. I do not do so deliberately, it just happens.
I was born as the youngest of three. It matters not that other children will be added to my family tree by a stepmother and a stepfather. Of my full blood siblings, I am the youngest of three. I had a son who, eventually, became the oldest - of three as well. I was young, so very young, but at his birth, our lives became instantaneously intertwined with chords of love. I struggled to raise this child while still nearly a child myself. We managed, we survived, and we thrived. Three years ago, he blessed me with the birth of my granddaughter, Miss M, who is – yes, the youngest of three. I was a witness to her birth while standing at my son’s side. I was a witness to the instantaneous intertwining of their lives – their chords of love. In it's desire for rhythm, my mind speaks of a chord of three strands - youngest, oldest, youngest – female, male, female - interwoven together as part of a larger familial tapestry of fierce primordial love. A chord of three strands that cannot be broken…..and my heart swells just a bit more.
I am so blessed to have her as a part of that chord. My beautiful Miss M. My beautiful light of the sea.
