A few days ago, we landed in Denver, my daughter and I, and went to the baggage carousel to pick up our luggage.
Standing very near was a tall man with waist length black hair, probably Hopi or Navajo, waiting for his luggage. As we waited for our bags, from behind him came a much older version of the man, a woman with short curly white hair, but the same face, just with many lines of age, a weathered and strong face.
He turned, and then how they greeted each other was so moving. They didn't say any words, they just silently leaned into each other and touched foreheads. They stayed that way, very still, silent. After what seemed like half a minute, she leaned back and took his face in both of her hands, and just stared deeply into his eyes.
The vision of this, the mother greeting the son with such deep, yet unspoken, emotion, made my eyes fill with tears as I witnessed their reunion, and my eyes fill with tears as I remember it.
That very morning, I had said goodbye to my two older children, whom I know I might not see for many months, economics being what they are for us now.
We love our children so deeply, we spend every day thinking of their well-being, feeding them, cleaning for them, asking them casually how their days are. I have done this job for 24 years. Now, two thirds of a continent away from two thirds of my children, I am facing a very new way of relating to them. We will skype, and text, and e-mail, yes. But they will be living on their own, and I will be a long, long ways away.
This very graceful Native American Mother, greeting her very elegant looking Native American son was a beautiful vision of this love parents have for their children.
The way no words needed to be spoken, just a deep, deep looking, a deep deep knowing, said so much of this powerful bond.
I am here in Denver now, unpacking countless boxes, getting my youngest daughter oriented and ready to start at her new high school in a few days. As I unpack, I have not a small amount of sadness at what I left behind, but also, I know looking forward is the way of wisdom and how we need to walk this earth.
I have already gone on a hike at Bear Creek Lake Park, and the ranger there told me of a great horny owl nesting area in the cottonwoods, where it is easy to spot and hear owls. I found a stone from my new life, and it will go on the altar that is already on my desk, to remind me of the permanent connection we have to the Earth, to our Mother, who looks deeply into our eyes, and promises that love with continue.
and no journal pages yet, but this is a part of a drawing by my beautiful and talented daughter, Lindsay, who will do great things with her art, and whose eyes I will look deeply into next time I can see her:
"Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form." --Rumi