The Cradle of Time

If you are reading this blog, you have experienced a loss in your life. Some have experienced great loss, deep and lasting loss that has been devastating on the journey of life, but for every loss there are memories that we savor and keep in our heart.

Nostalgia always winds its way down the

road to that special place in time.

A few months ago, after returning home from a “Celebration of Life” of a cousin, a sense of nostalgia flooded my mind. I could not shake it, and I did not want to shake it. Every one of my senses wanted to cherish every morsel of the memory. My musings went unchecked as I traveled down a country road where each mile unfolded another scene from a distant yesterday. I reminisced of the laughter, pain, the sunshine and clouds that grace each sky. I recalled the ebb and flow of years that rose to greet me once again.   

Upon the return home, I went to my favorite chair and penned the following poem. It brought me a certain peace as though I closed a door where the memories would be safe and stored for me to return again.   

Memories play in the sun and shade and take my hand to guide me back through the pages of time.

Somewhere in the cradle of

time the memories rest.

The dance of sun and rain

mingle with the bitter and

the sweet as one. Nostalgia

takes my hand and guides me

back from where I came.

From the front porch on a

summer’s night, laughter floats

through the valley, familiar

voices tap my ears again like

a gentle, evening tide. Tales and

stories whisper through halls of

yesteryears. Faces of those that

have passed appear again. The

pendulum swings and extends a

a baton to the next generation.

Today, I welcome the ballet of

memories to stroll across my mind as

hills rise to greet me, and welcome

the press of my feet as I say farewell

to another one that will cheer

me on from Heaven’s great fleet.