Monday, January 9, 2017

Notice

Notice (9/365)

Why do we allow
greeting cards to
tell us which moments
are of value? Sure,
we keep sacred the
gowns of baptism,
graduation, and even
marriage. But these
events are no more
or less holy than sitting
alone by the light of a
Christmas tree late at
night, or stretching
bare legs under favorite
sheets with no hurry to
rise, or the gut-busting
laughter of young brothers
as they talk in their room
after a long day of school,
or a 12 year old skipping
rocks on a snowy beach
beside a lighthouse with his
old, black dog. All these
things and so much more—
like real maple syrup on
Sunday pancakes, or
spitting cherry pits into
June grass, or the crack
of a bat, or the smack of
a hockey stick, or a warm
forehead kiss, or driving
alone and unexpectedly
hearing Bowie’s “Heroes”
on the radio and crying a 
little because, hey, there's
magic in that song—are 
what keep us alive again 
and again. 

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