Life Behind the Tapestry
while watching a "random" slideshow
There, on the screen, is
life, providentially arranged: my daughter on high
ropes, a misplaced duck, a cowgirl with horse.
Put Christmas next to a fire-branded bookcase,
bucolic view of meadow and mountain, a
framed up house with a surprised look. Thankfulness that
That is a Caribbean Island, year twenty-five,
green and blue and pink, juxtaposed with
glaciers, so far removed and yet one. Still here.
Now that was fun. Clowning around. Being goofs.
Rock-bathing, crevice-curled, sunlight playing
on her face. From childhood, my wife remembers that
Waterfall: Yonahlassee, all that's left of summer camp
memories turned to condos now. We stayed there. Walking
through the remains, I tried to know her, then, at 12.
Don't forget the golden wheat swaying on a Teton stage.
Or horses, gnarly pine, boat set to sail. Blue, and bluer, in
Costa Rica. The Colorado, canyons, just beyond my deck,
My daughter packing up to go. Leaving.
And where will she go? And when?
Yes, life behind the tapestry, and
yet still beautiful, mysterious, and gold.
[Sometimes, my wife and I are mesmerized by the hypnotic images playing across the computer screen, images of our life over at least 15 years. You never know what will pop up or creep in on the ever shifting palette of this screensaver, scenes of life lived out over the years, facially random, and yet, I suspect not. Writing them down, quickly, their juxtaposition triggers associations, connections, a peak around the corner of the tapestry, a glimmer of the gold of Providence.]