the small world

Trapped inside today, watching cars go by, their headlights reflected in the wet street, I realize this is the start of a long hard winter spent mostly indoors since Calvin cannot manage boots or walk in the snow and ice. I am reminded of a thoughtful note recently sent to me from a friend who grew up with a disabled sister and who also has a mother with Alzheimer's. She wrote:

Waking up and keeping on are the heroic part; the tiny triumphs are the unassisted walks, the days of almost normal, the moments of surprising response. These triumphs are worth the world. There are times when one wants to scream, "how did my world get so small!" The only rescue is our sense of beauty, our sense of humanity, our love. In rare and perfect moments, the small world is profoundly moving and we don't wish for anything more. I hope you have a perfect moment with Calvin and Michael today.

I hope so too, M. I'll be reading this again and again today as the rain pushes down through bobbing boughs soaking into the green and the black of things. The windows, with their rippled glaze, will be my gems, the street my runaway river.

photo by Michael Kolster


  1. Wow. That last line about gems and streams...pure poetry. Dont laugh but it made me want to come sit beside you...drink a cup of hot mulled cider...play with Calvin on the floor...mull over Michael's photos. You write so beautifully, pulling me in. Danielle in Zurich

    1. thank you so much, danielle. happy thanksgiving! xo

  2. I felt the same way too, Danielle. Happy thanksgiving to you, Michael and Calvin.
    Hugs, Jo in Hong Kong.