Friday, December 23, 2005

Enate Oppugnation

I watched the child as this cherub learned to ice skate. Saw the youngster fall, over and over again. Each time, the mother patiently helped the child to its feet, dusted ice bits from its knees, swiped a tear away with mittened fingers and encouraged the little one to try again.

Not to say the child was a slow learner but hours later I was still watching the youngster fall and the mother's patient and tender administrations.

I prayed that this tyke would soon get the hang of it, catch its balance as it were, for I could not give up the vigil until the end played out.

Eventually, the child wobbled successfully across the pond. A grin of self-accomplishment lit pixie features. Yet it was the beatific smile of the mother which caught my attention.

If ever we needed a visual of the meaning of love, it was in that mother's expression.

Later, this very child would tell me about learning to ice skate "all by myself ".

And I would question: "Didn't your mother help?"

"Naw. She wasn't even there." The chest would puff out, the eyes would dare argument and the voice would assert with self-aggrandizement: "I done it all by myself."

Over the years, I had opportunity to observe this child. This mother. Like a favorite running the Triple Crown, I kept an eye on their progress.

Would the child, like the horse, win the Preakness? The Belmont Stakes? The Kentucky Derby? Would the youngster finish the course with love in its heart, or misstep along the way? For it was not a contest of speed, but rather, one of mastering the five relationships.

The mother passed away recently. And I knew, without doubt, that she'd earned the Ultimate Triple Crown.

A thoroughbred in this point-to-point race, in this sport of kings, her ability to love was a front-runner, a pace-setter, a stayer and a winner whether running a turf track or a Gold Cup Race.

The child?

Well, the call is still out, of course, but it's a long odds bet. Better to place your money on the also ran.
Enate Oppugnation © 2005 Chaeli Lee Sullivan

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