I read this while eating toast and homemade jam at my kitchen table. The jam was made from Irish berries by my friend Olive and was given to me as a parting gift before she drove me to the Dublin airport. Now, the jar is almost empty, and I am sad to see the ending on the horizon. My son Liam comes through the door; he is 23 and carrying store-bought berries. How odd. What is all this about sons and berries? He once wandered our yard in a sagging diaper, pulling all the tomatoes off the vine and eating them by the handful. And now, as I take in your words, he enters with the berries he obtained by driving himself to the store. I lick the jam from my fingers. This stuff is raspberry gold, and I don't want to waste a drop. We are many hours older, and my heart hangs heavy on the vine.
I just read this while sitting on a bench across the street from our neighborhood public elementary school where I am picking up my granddaughter from kindergarten today—-there are children playing on the playground, climbing different things, giggling and laughter school buses abound for pick up and there is a touch of a breeze in the air which all of is in miami welcome whenever—— it all goes very fast for sure and I am trying to savior all the moments, knowing that it’s a blessing to be able to connect in these ordinary ways —-
Heart achingly beautiful & almost unbearably sad. Life, as I know it these days. Those luscious blackberries. Brings back fond memories for me. Lovely pictures Holly. The moth one (and that piece) is a favorite. Thank you for sharing.
Holly, I have read this essay several times throughout this day, and each time I read this writing I smile from ear to ear. Your writing brings me down to earth and happy emotions lifting me up to the sky. I am so glad you share your stories.
Lovely writing, Holly. You were able to capture that feeling of being suspended in time where you don't want to muss a single minute with them, but you need to take a breath and try to remember who you are, or were before kids.
Sounds like you are doing very well - soaking in life and appreciating the hour you are in and the next ones. It goes by with perfect timing right if it leaves imprints of love on your heart.
Beautiful. I think of Ross Gay and maybe my favorite poem of all time:
"what do you think
this singing and shuddering is,
what this screaming and reaching and dancing
and crying is, other than loving
what every second goes away?
Goodbye, I mean to say.
And thank you. Every day."
Oh. ❤️
I read this while eating toast and homemade jam at my kitchen table. The jam was made from Irish berries by my friend Olive and was given to me as a parting gift before she drove me to the Dublin airport. Now, the jar is almost empty, and I am sad to see the ending on the horizon. My son Liam comes through the door; he is 23 and carrying store-bought berries. How odd. What is all this about sons and berries? He once wandered our yard in a sagging diaper, pulling all the tomatoes off the vine and eating them by the handful. And now, as I take in your words, he enters with the berries he obtained by driving himself to the store. I lick the jam from my fingers. This stuff is raspberry gold, and I don't want to waste a drop. We are many hours older, and my heart hangs heavy on the vine.
Thanks for the memories. Project those bushes.
Beautiful. ❤️
this is so beautiful.
I just read this while sitting on a bench across the street from our neighborhood public elementary school where I am picking up my granddaughter from kindergarten today—-there are children playing on the playground, climbing different things, giggling and laughter school buses abound for pick up and there is a touch of a breeze in the air which all of is in miami welcome whenever—— it all goes very fast for sure and I am trying to savior all the moments, knowing that it’s a blessing to be able to connect in these ordinary ways —-
❤️
Heart achingly beautiful & almost unbearably sad. Life, as I know it these days. Those luscious blackberries. Brings back fond memories for me. Lovely pictures Holly. The moth one (and that piece) is a favorite. Thank you for sharing.
Holly, Another blisteringly beautiful implant in my brain. Thank you for your perspective on time :) Blessings and joyous journeys
beautiful...so focussed. I am reminded....
Dammit, you made me cry again.
Holly, I have read this essay several times throughout this day, and each time I read this writing I smile from ear to ear. Your writing brings me down to earth and happy emotions lifting me up to the sky. I am so glad you share your stories.
If I could put time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do … Jim Croce
Lovely writing, Holly. You were able to capture that feeling of being suspended in time where you don't want to muss a single minute with them, but you need to take a breath and try to remember who you are, or were before kids.
Sounds like you are doing very well - soaking in life and appreciating the hour you are in and the next ones. It goes by with perfect timing right if it leaves imprints of love on your heart.