Wi

I spent quite a bit of time today with a small bundle on my chest.  My lovely grandson, Wilder.  Em calls him “Y” or “Wi”.  He is lovely and warm and real in a world that seems to be neither warm or real.  He is a small quiet being who is new to all this.

We heard the Blue Angels soaring overhead, and I listened to the news and read my books and read the papers and yet he remained warm and real against my chest.

Why is it that that is not enough?  Why is it that love and connection and just the sheer joy of it all is not enough.

We all come from histories.  We all come from years of wars and disagreements and disappointments.

Yet in this luminous, quivering and striving new life, I find hope.  In the purse of his lips and the look in his eyes as he searches mine I wonder.  Is he the hope we have all been searching for?

There is a baby out there just waiting to herald a new beginning.  Not all can be glorious, not all can be divine.  But all can be a call for Hope.

Wilder James.