To walk away from where you came from is a frightening action. So much of your being, unbeknownst to you, tied to DNA, blood lines, loyal ancestor’s toils, stories shared, the memories, beautiful and bitter-sweet. The alluring moments linger, testing strength and will. They coax and bind you to your past. The bittersweet ones? The answers you search for, never come. This is your family; your clan, your protective circle.
Grace always knew. The child held the images, the words, locked them away for a time far, far ahead in the future. Imagine. Born into a life, sensing from an early age that life is fresh yet fleeting. She discovered the bluest of eggs, dropped from the arms of the cherry tree, tucked within tufts of grass. She cupped the coveted treasure into a fist, gingerly wrapped the thin membrane within a blanket of tissue. Later, she discovered the shattered bits of shell. Life’s fragile nature, beginning with the innocence of childhood; the necessary lessons we all must learn.
Long ago, Grace began the process of learning to leave. An eye on the future, a foot firmly planted in the past, a tender child’s heart tied to tattered scraps of love, bits of hope. The remnants of a wish. What did she wish for? Simply love. Enduring love.