DSC_0359She is full and hungry when she arrives. 

And ready. 

I didn't like that part, though.  Ready made me wait.

But Ready made a heart grow impossibly fonder, love smothering complaint like snow blanketing barren ground.   

I'm full and hungry, too.

Stories wait their turn to be emptied, peace offerings

to fill silence's void,

to quench curiosity,

to satisfy a need to know.  A want to know?  No…a need.

One after another spills, and we listen, captive, hostages to her next word.  And the next.  Tell us more I think, grateful for morsels and crumbs.

Light and laughter, shimmering halo, become her.  Eyes smile.  Lips dance.  Voice sparkles.  Life finds her rhythm in places unexpected. 

Shadows lurk, too.  Dark spots that bend perfection to reality.  But she is wise beyond years to bow them to her service, to see the victory that lies within defeat.  Silver linings.

I hold my breath.  I snap mental pictures, begging them to last longer. 

I'm a voyeur – I can't not watch them, sister and brothers.  Do they sense my study?  They have changed, all, and they see that in each other, but can they see it among themselves?  Or is that show just for me, a consolation prize for the mother?  I think it is, so I count it treasure found.

Full and hungry demand relief.

There is nothing more delicious than the taste of satisfaction.

* * *

Grateful to be inspired by Heather of the the extratraordinary ordinary; click to read a host of brilliant writers.

Pin It on Pinterest