Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Rock Star

Fresh-faced boys smile at me from beneath the sweaty rims of their skate helmets. They are finally home and they know it. They teach me this with the ease of their gait, the way they breathe this air, lift faces to clouds swollen with sunset light.

Vermont is this beautiful in part because they are in it, but I cannot deny something inherently and profoundly lovely in this place. Something perfectly familiar and true.

To have built this nest from afar, woven the twigs and leaves of our two-year struggle into the coracle of our eastward migration--I feel like a complete rock star.

It is perhaps my greatest achievement.

1 comment:

  1. just reading your work and am struck by this piece; I am so glad you all are happy. although our time in room 112 was fleeting & dark & cold, I think of you often in my struggle to do the right thing for my family -- stay in SC, connected to family or explore where we four fit. This definitely struck a cord today. Cybele