A path trails behind her where her steps have separated the snow.
She plays and pretends.
As if no one else is aware or around.
In the middle of the afternoon
in the middle of a city,
in the first snowfall of the season that clings to the ground.
She lifts her face to the sky,
unashamedly basking in the glory of the moment.
She tears off her leopard fleece hat
as if the only way to take in the full weight of the moment
is to feel her hair wet and flat against her scalp.
I quick run, grab the camera
stand at the schoolroom window
and snap photos.
She is oblivious and beautiful.
And then I hear it, the song-words tumbling from her lips.
The phrase she has been repeating in a rising and descending melody.
"I'm free. I'm free. I'm free."
And from behind venetian blinds,
this momma-heart soars a little higher
because a daughter today has found wings
that have flown her to simple and elusive heights of
just being. dwelling. enjoying. reveling.
Today, a daughter has reminded a mother how to live.
The glory of God is man fully alive.
- St. Irenaus