In the MIddle

With the advent of my mother's descent into dementia, I am slowed in my walk through life much as I was when I ambled with first one toddler, then the second one, hanging onto my finger as they learned to put one stubby foot in front of the other.

I'm looking forward to slowing way down again with this newest grandchild so we can investigate a tuft of grass (taste testing as we go at times), sow bugs (illusive balls of shiny armor when touched), caterpillars (squishy messes when pinched), and oh, so many other wonderful things on the ground.

Walking with my mom is an exercise now in the overview. We watch the wind blow through the firs, the changing pattern of the sun casting shadows, the contours of clouds scattering across the sky.

Where children seek to know everything in their paths, my mother seems to be looking at something beyond this spot in life and time. It's as if she's searching for the way to ascend into her place as a heavenly spirit.

I'm praying to reside somewhere in the middle, between the grounded view of the little one and the sky view of the old one. I'm hoping to be that point of balance in the middle.