Some Day

I wonder at the journeys, the heartbreaks and smiles-through-tears that have been shared over a steaming mug of coffee. The sips nursed carefully amidst a jumbled mix of grief and questioning. As if all of life’s mystery could be assembled in some cohesive circular pattern from which we derive satisfying answers…

I watch the mother’s eyes seeking something from me underneath the chatter. To be heard. Understood. To relinquish a piece of the burden. And all the while we jump from history to the future and back to the here and now of a daughter’s suffering. As if the caretakers don’t need any focus, only sacrifice…

I witness hands wrapped around ceramic, clinging tightly and then letting go, the cup clanking and teetering back into place. Settling. Warmed by a small seed of hope. By a smile that says hang in there. It won’t ever be the same. But it can be good again. Some day…