let’s pretend time is a line
and I’m standing
right here
upon it
bubble wrapping
antique plates
that were my great grandmother’s

down that line behind me
are other relics
mementos that rise
to the surface
as if god
stirred a pot of stew

letters and postcards
newspaper clippings
slip up
and out
into my hands
photographs of my parents
forty years ago
wedding attire
and full innocent
in their smiles

here I am
holding these delicate dishes
they’ve moved down the line
up to me
passed through marriages
and family cupboards
setting places
for hopes and disappointments
now in my hands
they’re leaving California
I’ll meet them in Hawaii

and if time is a line
I’m right here
looking forward
to delivery confirmation
new old dishes
and the Bohemian
at my table
we can play house
pick herbs
and make dinner
by the kitchen window

on the line of time
here and now
I stand
boxing heirlooms
beside me
my son
the swirl of his father
and myself
all blended in his smiling
eight year old eyes
my living proof
of love embodied
and the reminder
of the brilliant pain
that life will change

but time is not a line
so neat straight and narrow
so the generations
surround me
all those choices
facets on a diamond
simultaneously existing
with plates in my hand
a laugh from my son
a vision of a love
and what’s to come

I guess it doesn’t matter
what shape time takes
I’m just here
holding relics
my son
in the stew
in change

courtesy of paganpages.org

One thought on “Time Line

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