“When anybody asks, 'What are you writing about now?' if I try to reply, the book-in-the-works sounds so idiotic to me that I think, 'Why am I trying to write that puerile junk?' So now I give up; if I could talk about it, I wouldn't have to write it."
- Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet



Saturday, January 20, 2007

In a comment on my I Am From post, Judy mentioned one of my most cherished memories...

I was four, or maybe five years old. My parents had just driven away after dropping me off at my grandmother's house. I was spending a couple of weeks with Grandma as I did every summer, and she lived far enough away from my home that I would not see my parents until my stay was complete.

I was excited. Time with Grandma was so much fun and I loved her dearly. My parents had just driven away, so I had no time to miss them yet. I didn't know then that my mother's heart was probably breaking even though I was only a few minutes out of her sight.

It was a summer evening, warm and soft and wonderful. It had just rained, so that fresh, clean earth smell was hovering in the air, and the sky was a misty blue with the gray clouds marching away to shower their next destination. It was also a bath night, so Grandma filled the tub and helped me in.

It wasn't long before I heard her call my name excitedly from the living room, like a little girl with a secret to share. Grandma always sounded like a little girl when she was excited about something. She had a sweet, childlike spirit all of her days and delighted in those small miracles that God gives as gifts, but that we so often take for granted.

She came to the tub, scooped me out, wrapped me up in a big towel, and escorted me out to the living room where the sun was now shining softly through the white sheers over her windows. The light outside had the golden hue of a post-rain, summer afternoon. It would have been beautiful in itself, but then she pointed to the sky and I gazed in wonder on what she had seen.

The colors stretched themselves in a giant arc across the sky, beautiful in all their transparent splendor. Before this moment I had only seen such a thing in picture-books. It was as if I was seeing before my very eyes something that only occured in fairy tales. I did not know then what this miracle was made of. Scientific explanations of such phenomena escaped me. All my young mind knew in that moment was that I was sharing a beautiful promise of God with my beloved Grandma... first rainbow.



At 1/20/2007 9:14 PM, Anonymous HolyMama! wrote:

oh so sweet.

she got you out of the bath and wrapped you in a towel first. yeah, i'd remember that moment too.

At 1/21/2007 1:16 AM, Blogger scribbit wrote:

What a good writer you are.

At 1/21/2007 8:57 AM, Anonymous Anonymous wrote:

I don't remember my first rainbow, or a moment with my grandmother like that, but I do feel that I've been given a lovely gift.

Scribbit is right. Thank you.

Oh, and what were you doing up at 3:20 a.m., young lady?!?! :-)

At 1/21/2007 7:26 PM, Blogger yellojkt wrote:

Rainbows are beautiful. I don't remember my first one, but I have seem some great ones.


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