"We're all just walking each other home." - - Ram Dass

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

{These are} The Magic Hours

These are the hours when pain gives way to pleasure.

When those long sleepless nights
give way to tall tales by tree light
the weight of his 5 years pressing on you
as he throws his hands wide
and his voice sparkles and cracks
with narrative

And a toddler arm drapes around
your neck as she drifts,
sleep dancing across her eyelids
as her body sinks into
the night.

These are the hours filled with past treasures and future dreams are imagined.

When we sit frozen
drinking in frame by frame
his presence. his voice. his spirit.
captured by a 6 year old's unsteady hand.
Fresh tears are shed as our very limbs ache to hold him
and laughter bubbles from the assurance to see him as our hearts remember.

And in a single click we stare at each other,
incredulous...we finally booked it -
a week away, just us. 11 years best friends, 7 years man and wife.
and while we tuck beneath our tired and worn sheets,
and our heads rest on familiar pillows,
we whisper of the new places we are going, our new life yet to discover.

These are the hours when past hopes fall away, and the present is undone with limitless love.

When you believe with everything you have
that the best is yet to come
because the road has risen to meet you,
and you carry the weight of your past
as knowledge, instead of pain.

And you kneel with your son who's weeping
because the man at the restaurant tells him
no balloons today, because of a helium shortage...
He's weeping not just for the lost prize, but as he puts it,
"for a world with no more balloons."

These are the hours that dance and delight, that wonder and imagination take flight.

When 3 year old girls
give way to sugarplum fairies
and with every twirl of her purple tulle skirt and pointed toe,
we are all pulled out of the kitchen of present
to an exotic land of decadence and mouse kings.

And chairs, blankets, and stuffed friends
become the best kind of puppet stage
while tinkling laughter washes over us all
due to elementary school humor
and objects appearing from thin air
behind ears.

These are the hours that make the years fly, folding us into life with grace and love.

For these~ these are the magic hours.

(Linking with Tuesdays Unwrapped, Just write, and darling Emily at Imperfect Prose)


  1. This was absolutely beautiful! Coming over by way of Chatting at the Sky -- so glad I did.

  2. I don't think I can imagine a world with no balloons, either. I would weep. I love the way you have with this story. :)

  3. this was beautiful! left me with so many more questions and wonderings, though. . .
    have a blessed week!

  4. folding us into life with grace and love...nice...really nice weaving building to that as well...beautiful write...and merry christmas to your home....

  5. and his voice sparkles and cracks
    with narrative

    so many exquisite lines in this, as always, friend, but i loved this particularly... so glad you get a week away... merry christmas!

  6. Love these haunting, hopeful, tender words. Bless you.

  7. Beautiful, Tara. I smile because I can see it, feel it, relate to it, and feel my own toddler's round arms against me and hear his wild stories with eyes wide!

    Your line "as he throws his hands wide
    and his voice sparkles and cracks
    with narrative" ... :)

    Nice to meet you,
    Jennifer Dougan

  8. What a beautiful picture you painted. I miss those years, with children at home.

  9. Reading your post my soul found a moment to rest ... Beautiful!

  10. These are the kind of pieces that are simply beautiful. Just lovely. My children are older now==you made me miss those little times very much, but also remember them fondly. K.

  11. This is beautifully written with an very good reminder. Thank you for sharing your gift.

  12. Thank you for taking me there, for sharing your communion - beautiful.

  13. Beautiful. Thank you for the gift and the rest.

  14. Gorgeous, all of it. So glad Emily linked you.

  15. found this through Emily at Chatting at the Sky...truly beautiful and beautifully true...the tears of your little one for the balloons and the dances of another, all precious and all good...I love that you can feel that and am following your blog! Happy end of this year and 2012!

  16. Like most of the gals on here I found you through Emily at Chatting at the Sky...and what a beautiful writer you are. I am grateful for lovely voices like yours out there and pray more and more will arise. Wishing you and yours a Happy New Year!