Never Ending Tiny Mirrors

We are 2,000 miles from home

but, bad news is nothing

if not determined

we learn of illness and

like a midday shadow

those miles lengthen

 

“Things are fine

Things will be grand

Stay where you are

We’ll be in touch

He cannot talk

He is resting now

Yes, he ate something today

Try not to worry

Things are fine…”

 

the afternoon slinks by

and in the pool we play

her snorts and shrieks contagious

the antidote to guilt

 

afterward we walk and I let her lead

her eager stride purposeful, determined

a secret path, two hopping frogs

and then

a sprawling bed of quartz laid out before us

sprinkled, with never ending tiny mirrors

reflecting pieces of ourselves

we cannot hope to see