Amazement

I saw it earlier; that time just before the sunsets when all is saturated with syrupy sunshine so that all colors are heightened. It stops me and like a voice calls me to look at it; to listen to it; to feel it. And I do.

A vase of tulips on the small table beside the couch is shadowed on the wall and I am stunned by it and the light seems to say, 'see I told you so this is amazing stuff'. Yes, I say this is amazing. I call Dean to come and see before it goes...those shadows of tulips. And the sunshines on the picture of my father that sits just below the tulips so that he looks as though he is laying on the deck where I took the photo in the shade; he looks now as though he is laying in the sun with shadows playing as shadows often did across his face.

And I do believe in what I wrote as dialogue in my play, "Swimming Lessons" It was Pamela Markam and she says that if you want to find the seams in life you'll find them in the afternoons. She continues on and says that it is at this time that if you look to the side while concentrating straight ahead you can see them. And if you're real careful you can take a seam apart then, take something out or put something in; fix something and sew the seam back together again.

The other time is as I described above when everything is brought together and held up; when all catches the light and says, 'amazing stuff'. Yes, it is amazing...all of the stuff of life. I wonder how I can doubt life when it manages to hold so much amazement at the same time having room for suffering. It is the ache of life, is that, that ability life has of holding both.