I am a big fan of Sparkle Water.
Sparkle Snow too.
Sparkle anything… something magical about it.
On Friday, Granny, Sister-In-Law Robin and I headed up to Maine with one major goal..
Time to be with each other, and with ourselves, and with Grampa… in whatever way we wanted to be.
We talked and welled-up and flat-out cried whenever we wanted to.
We also laughed and snorted and rolled our eyes at our beloved Old Yankee Man.
We sat in Thinkin’ Chairs (the white and blue adirondack chairs placed on the grass, overlooking the water) and in the morning room (by the windows facing the water), and ate pancakes in the kitchen (moving our chairs strategically, to get better views of the water).
Water was big.
On Saturday morning, very early and before anyone else had risen with the sun, I headed outside with my camera.
The sun came up, and when it got high enough, little bits of water stretched up and rolled in a soft wind… and began to shimmer and sparkle.
I thought of the idea of water sprites, elemental fairies of our seas and ponds and lakes and – in a pinch – puddles.
How cool would it be if they were behind my beloved Sparkle Water…
And then I smiled, because grief brings with it all kinds of magical thinking (and then I smiled even bigger when I realized that I could care less whether it is real or not – this thinking… because it doesn’t matter (and so what?)).
And I snapped away with my camera, and walked in the dewey grass and quiet air of the just-post-dawn hour.
And when I got back and looked at my pictures, I found that I was actually right.
Several water sprites had actually alighted softly on my weathered dock, and posed for me…
And magical thinking or not, when I showed the larger image to Granny, she smiled at something completely different in the image… something that meant the world to her, in a place that was so near and dear to her husband of sixty years’ heart… the waters of Maine…
Strong and clear.
And sparkling, in that instant, just for her…
A gift from him.
I would have summoned dragons, to rain fire on anyone who challenged her joy and wonder in that moment.
As I watched her face, I too admit to some mental clapping, along with a nod of my head.
And the overwhelming need to believe that somewhere, somehow, this man could pick up on my ‘atta boy’.
Because, wow Grampa, that one was well played.
Thanks for readin’.
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