Growing in Grace


Little girls dancing with sparklers

imitating fireflies in the night

while little boys played with lighters

impersonating men in charged

as they launch colors to the sky.

I recall my own children

playing together not long ago

in our yard.

Memories fly out of me like rockets

shooting to the evening sky.

I look out to the mountains.

This corner of the world

called for me,

allowing a safe place for growth and celebration.

I hear country music playing in the distance,

the earth welcoming the lighted sky art,

and strangers gathering as one

in awed of the show.

I am growing in grace.

It’s been a while,

perhaps several lives,

but I am here in humbleness

dancing to the music of children

running around the lake.

A man sits behind me

snoring softly to the buzzing of mosquitoes,

slapping arms and legs,

joining the smell of bug repellent, smoke, and sweat.

I have made it home.

Not quite what I imagined,

much better than my dreams,

I smile as I touch my new skin

remembering the old one

that never quite fit me.

My sons and daughters not all here,

yet I know they have their own lives,

their own celebrations.

This is now my time

to grow and be a child.

I am the sparkle and the rockets

that shoot light to the moon…

I am my own fourth of July.