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I've been
absent from this blog due to heavy online history-research for a friend – well,
acquaintance, really – that I'm still engaged in (more later). But even more
so, I've been psyching myself up for this morning's graduation of daughter-two
Portia. That's her up above these still-shaky words of mine, looking very
uncharacteristically dazed and out of focus. Those traits are actually entirely
mine, because the lens and I misted over together. (Proud
family-friend Leona there smiling to the left.)
I may meditate
here tomorrow on this awesome transition, Portia's scholarship, high honors,
etc. But for now – and since just after the lunch following her graduation
ceremony, maybe even hours earlier – my heart's both swelled up and broken in
many shards, and I almost can't. The swelling, of course, is deep paternal
pride. And the shattering of my heart is just the thought – a genuine grief,
even – of her going far away to college, and all the years and too-few days
together now behind us: younger-girl walks, daughter-on-lap, wondrous words of
delight in a sweet, sweet voice, and so much more... and O far too little.
These are never to be repeated or even relived, yet are also safely stored in
my mind's eye, my wreck of a heart, and the core of my very soul.
If I could cry
as easily as I used to, my face and shirt would be drenched.
God be with
her.
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