a little fragment while drinking a latte at a cafe in Edgartown, summer 2015

Oh, I want to say to that beautiful young couple, life is happening, get off your devices. Your beautiful children are making memories of learning how to work the water spigot, your son with his platinum blond head, your beaming daughter, delighted, entranced by making the water pour into the cup with her own tiny hands. She holds up one hand, damp fingers spread in joy. You keep typing.

I know you are tired and working hard, not just raising children but doing your part to keep the wheels of commerce turning in their oiled grooves. I know you need a break, but, oh, please, see how beautiful she is, this passing moment of learning how to work things, how to get what she needs from the world — it’s already happening, she’s already growing, 10 feet from the table and she’s already walking away into the world.


I write to stop myself from telling the beautiful blonde mother to put down her iPhone and look at her daughter toddling toward her, beaming with the joy of filling her own cup from the water spigot.

I write to keep my heart open, because I don’t see everything, because I don’t see the moments when the mother pulls her daughter close and holds her tight, holds her in her lap in her tiny pink hoodie, eyes closing, curls drooping, mouth dropping open, safe bird in the nest of her mother who loves her more than anything in the world, more than her lovely husband, so much that sometimes she can’t bear to feel it, her heart walking around in the world in a tiny pink hoodie.

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