Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart


grown-up sons and baby boys -

N holding Trin at graduation 2When your own baby — never mind that he has two master’s degrees, is happily married, and moving all the way across the country — has a baby, it’s weird.

Wonderful, but weird. Just sayin’. There’s a kind of disconnect: baby/ son/ son-as-father/ son-once-was baby… It’s kind of a strange loop. And yes, I did say it’s also wonderful.

My grandson looks very little like the downy-headed baby my first-born once was, so that’s not it. My grandson’s eyes are dark pools, like the night sky. Not brown so much as darkness. My son’s were the dark gentian blue of dreams.

No, the weird comes from this thing called ‘time passing.’ It’s not that my grandson evokes my son. What happens is that I have come unstuck from the gravity of time. Its field no longer contains me, and I float between the baby that was then, and the father who is now. You know how our grandparents used to say time flies? Well, apparently it has. Flown. Because no way is that little boy w/ the wide blue eyes the father of this little baby with the wide dark ones.blue sky mind

As for beginner’s heart’s place in all this confusion? Remembering — once again — how ephemeral it all is: life, love, childhoods. I reach out for the clouds sometimes, before I remember: the clouds come & the clouds go. Only the sky remains. And sometimes, if you are very lucky, the blue sky also holds a grandson. Nothing like his father, really. Except for being perfect. And ever-changing. Like beginner’s heart…?



Previous Posts

poetry, structure, and creative beginner's heart
Last night, discussing structure and writing with my elder son, I said I couldn't write w/ too much structure. That writing is -- for me -- a discovery process. Structure, I told him, can actually kill my ide

posted 3:03:47pm Apr. 16, 2014 | read full post »

what a difference a day makes (and other ways I wish I was like my grandson)
My grandson burnt his hands Sunday. Not horribly, but badly enough that he cried inconsolably for hours. Today? He's his usual sunny self: slapping the Cheerios on the highchair

posted 3:01:12pm Apr. 15, 2014 | read full post »

in the flash of a moment
My grandson hurt himself today. Not horribly, but bad enough that he's been crying for two+ hours. On a lovely spring day -- temps in the lower 70s -- he was on the deck w/ his folks, crawling happily around

posted 4:45:55pm Apr. 13, 2014 | read full post »

the poetry of every day
It's easy to forget that every day holds poetry. Especially if you're hectic: packing, moving, cleaning a new house, unpacking... Soothing a disolocated dog, holding a curious baby. Eating out of cartons while you locate the dishes and pans. All of this can make you forget the whole point of the

posted 2:46:45pm Apr. 12, 2014 | read full post »

what poetry gives us
Today's poem is actually a three-fer. I've been writing to prompts from NaPoWriMo, one of the national sites for National Poetry Writing Month. The poem today is written from yesterday's prompt, which asked wri

posted 6:30:22pm Apr. 09, 2014 | read full post »




Report as Inappropriate

You are reporting this content because it violates the Terms of Service.

All reported content is logged for investigation.