Image: Nina Bisognani
Girl at the Beach
She was a tiny little thing when I birthed her:
six pounds, eleven ounces , and barely nineteen inches long.
She already had a shock of dark brown hair
and sharp little fingernails. I almost didn’t make it
to the hospital in time.
Becoming her mother was relatively easy. She didn’t cry much, slept nearly all night, and quickly became eager to test her new environment.
But that was years ago: before the pandemic deaths brought global fear and heartbreak into our lives; before the onslaught of school shootings pierced our souls; before the horrific crimes against humanity in Afghanistan and Russian war crimes in Ukraine made pain an everyday feeling and threatened the existence of freedom.
When she was young, I loved watching her looking out to sea with one foot dipping into the water, ready to plunge into the unknown world ahead. It was an image so beautiful and naïve and full of life. I pray those times will return; times when we feel safe again; times when we look forward to the next day, and every day that follows.
My faith tells me they will come. If only we do the work to make them happen. There is so much ahead of us, so much that is good yet to be, so many mountains to climb and crosses to bear along the way.