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Monday, January 07, 2008

a bit of magic

this morning as i was riding the subway to work, "invisible ink" by aimee mann started playing on my i pod. i don't know what it was about the song, but i started to think about how much i wanted to call my mom. thinking about the sound of her voice, i started to tear up as i walked up the steps behind earl hall. i felt so empty, i just wanted her back. i thought to myself how nice it would be to see a hawk on campus today. i only saw a hawk once before on campus, but i thought if my mom had an emissary on this physical plane it would be a red-tailed hawk... after a few glances at the empty branches of nearby trees and the blue-gray sky, i finally saw one... just sitting quietly on an upper branch of an oak tree several yards away. i stopped to sit down on a cold, cement bench, overwhelmed by my emotions, and the hawk flew down to a lower branch closer to the path. as i walked by her, i was maybe five feet from where she sat, glancing at me briefly before returning her gaze to the squirrels scurrying beneath her, ultimately chasing one down a grassy knoll alongside low library.

i've was never raised to believe in a biblical heaven, but i've also never really doubted the existence of some kind of "life" beyond the physical one we experience with our five senses. little events like this one make me almost sure that our consciousness lives on in some non-physical way. sometimes it's comforting... knowing that my mom is still there... somewhere... other times it just reminds me of how much i miss my physical mom... the sound of her voice... the feel of her cheek next to mine. other than this morning, i've been feeling a little better since coming back to new york after the holidays. the pain is a little less constant. maybe it's just having the holidays over and done with. maybe it's a little didstance... maybe it's guitar hero... i'll take it though.

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Anonymous said...

After my aunt died a few years back, I realized that I couldn't get myself to think of her as truly "gone." I kept imagining her with suitcases packed, heading out on a big ship into the ocean & waving at me from the deck. She still feels only far away; sometimes I have to remind myself I can't call her. You never know, after all.

Hugs to you from CA - hang in there.

moosk said...

thanks, hf... and thank you for your sweet cards. i'm still trying to figure out the mechanics on the spinning snowflake thingy. i will call you... soon!