a funny thing kept happening as we walked alone in rows of raspberries. every spot we stopped to pick there would be a better one directly across the way.
each time the very next row would hold larger berries, branches with fruit threatening to drop from the weight.
how can it be, i wondered each time.
why is it superior anywhere but where i am?
so i laughed at myself.
i thought, isn’t that the way? isn’t it that i assume everywhere is better than where i end up? so fickle am i, i reasoned, so unwilling to be satisfied with what i’ve been given.
i took a closer look across the way and found that it really was better over there. i had landed at the inferior spot over and over again.
i looked at mazzy and she looked at me.
what of it?
what if the other rows have more?
what if i have to settle and make do and be content even while knowing there was more to be had?
can i do that?
some of us can do it much better than others.
some of us can not. we refuse to and are eaten alive by what is on the other side of the row, the place we can never quite reach.
and what about me?
what can i do?
i’m learning to count my days with you, child. not because of life expectancy or because i have a spiritual practice of thankfulness.
i’m learning from you.
there are so many rows that will ever be out of your reach, girl – and i would smash the entire world to give them to you if i could.
but nothing like that works.
only the truth of you works.
the truth that if something is unavailable to you, dear one, than it isn’t worth having. it changes before my eyes and i see it for what it is.
through your eyes this whole world has been unlocked. so let’s camp where the berries are too green and the branches are barely laden. i can see it now.
there’s no place so golden.