If I am to believe the words and paintings travel from my heart to my hands (which I do) then it makes sense to me that the opposite can be true. This gravitates me to the tangible. And I suppose that’s why I like to print out my photographs from time to time.
Scrolling through my iPad, of course I checked for my best smile, my best colors, the things that I’d like to see daily, but then I stumbled upon the picture of a note from my mother. Her handwriting. The curves that were a roadmap to my heart. The words that I still long to hear — that whisper from the photo. Signed with the name that only I called her — a connection that was ours alone. I added it to the cart to be printed.
I checked the mailbox each day. And waited. And waited again. The thin package showed itself by bursting through the back entry. I ran to open. There was another protective package inside, like ribs for the heart. I opened this one too, and slowly pulled out the photos. My lips smiled when I saw myself in periwinkle blue, but my full body beamed as I read the note from mother. And I must tell you, it felt like the first time. It was loud and rang brand new, as if she were here. And holding it in my hands, I am here to tell you that the reverse is true. Love does travel both ways. From heart to hands and hands to heart.
I only mention it because maybe you were wondering. Maybe you thought twice about writing the note. Mailing the letter. Printing the photo. Don’t hesitate. Make it all real. Say the words. Give the hugs. Keep the paths open to love tangible. Maybe then we’ll all learn to fly.
