flame by Lisa KC
A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated aromatic life. How may we see in them all that is to be seen in them by the finest senses? How can we pass most swiftly from point to point and be present always at the focus where the greatest number of vital forces unite in their purest energy?
To burn always with this hard gem-like flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.
~Walter Pater* (1839-1894)
After Michael had gone to bed Monday night I fell sound asleep while watching TV with Feather and Willow stretched out in my lap, the three of us there in the recliner that was once my mother's recliner, the one I was sleeping on beside her bed the morning that she died.
A gentle stroke drew across my right cheekbone up to my temple hairline to waken me. Drowsy and dazed from being out cold, with the local news jabbering in front of me, I knew that I had just been touched so lovingly. In seconds I began to discount it, then a wash of comfort reclaimed the moment and I figured it must have been my mother's touch.
I later selected from my bookshelf a vintage book (so old there is no copyright date - only noted as DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO., 407-425 DEARBORN STREET, CHICAGO) that belonged to my mother's mother. From the pages of The Pleasures of Life, by Sir John Lubbock, Bart., M.P., the above quote demanded my attention.
Chalk up the happenings of the last few hours as being among those ICMs (Ironies and Cosmic Messages) I have written about receiving in the past. They come unbidden, and almost always when I am most in need of compassion.
*Several online sources, including this one, indicate a one-word difference in the first sentence of the quote. They say, ". . . variegated, dramatic life" instead of " . . . "variegated, aromatic life." I chose to use exactly what was in front of me in the pages of the book cited.