LAX. May.
Bradley Arrivals.
A sea of humanity, ever flowing tide up the ramp.
The whirr of wheels. Faces - questioning, searching.
Recognition. A quickening pace, eyes lit, a hurrying toward love.
Waiting, waiting, then my own.
My girl and her guy.
Joy and tears comingle.
Periodic gathering does this mamma's heart good.
The visit brings hiking, French cooks in the kitchen, and
joyous news of a wedding next year.
I love that she loves her life.
She has found her place in the City of Lights,
a kind, gracious man at her side.
It is far, though.
All too soon we are back at Bradley - the departure gate.
Leave taking is harder,
but the job was to teach her to spread her wings and fly.
That she has.
San Fran. December.
Rolling hills, shades of green on the drive north.
Sky - first cloud covered, muted, luscious shades of gray.
Then the sun appears - blue skies, farmland patchworked with trees.
My soul breathes just a little.
I lean toward seeing my boy and his girl.
The City used to scare me - I felt unwelcome in its streets.
Hard driving, loud noises, dirty sidewalks, all created tension in my core.
Then I began to see it through my boy's ease in
exploring neighborhoods, enjoying architecture, relishing the effort of climbing hills.
A hike at Lands' End brings views of sea, sky and that iconic red bridge.
Girl meets heron at the water's edge.
Thunder in a rock hewn cave where sea meets stone creates its own music.
My legs stretch, my gut unwinds, my soul quiets, my lungs fill with the fresh ocean air.
Our visit brings talk - quiet, pure, gentle, connecting hearts through words.
Joy comes in playful kittens and the comfort of soup dumplings at a neighborhood restaurant.
Tree shopping, soaking in the view of city lights from high upon the hill, gift sharing -
every moment is savored.
All too soon departure comes.
Mountains, farmland, round the corner of highway, the sea appears.
Ocean winter blue. Sunlight dancing on water.
Then home.
