"Grand, what is papa doing?" asked Kyra, her wide eyes locked on the ocean-facing deck.
Grand looked out the window and smiled. The hynerian she had fallen in love with many years ago still had it. His movements flowed as an easy breeze; a grace typically unknown in the male; a strength hidden in seamless elegance.
"Grand? Is he dancing?"
Reaching down, grand picked Kyra up and placed her on the counter. Placing her chin on Kyra's shoulder, together they looked. "I believe he is," she whispered.
"Why is he dancing all alone? Is papa okay?" Kyra whispered back.
"Oh, I think he is more than okay. Look just to his left. Above. Watch those birds."
A few feet above papa's head she spied a bevy of white birds, wings extended, appearing to float with the gentle undulations of a boat on the ocean. One by one they dipped, rolled and circled around, weaving in choreographed unison to the magnificent twirling figure below in the pristine white tunic. His hands seemed to have no beginning or end, a movement both circular and elliptical without being either, neither fast nor slow, splendidly hypnotic. Kyra watched, her tongue captive, her lips forming the shape of an un-uttered wow.
Papa moved from toe to finger as the wave unrolls upon the beach, a singular movement of flow more similar to melody than dance. The birds, evenly spaced, silent as the wind, formed a circle above his silver mane. Reaching upward, body and tunic a font of translucent morning light, finger tips blinding with the brilliance of ten discrete sunrises, diamond hair coruscating. Trees hushed and shrubbery kneeled; stones solemn spoke not in a breeze twirling as ribbons upon the banner of the day.
"Would you like to join him?"
Kyra nodded.
"Go."
Kyra ran. Papa turned and with a serpentine twisting of arms he leveraged her momentum and without flesh touching, catapulted her small frame into the air above his head. The snowy birds haloed her black tresses. Papa lowered his arms. Kyra, held aloft as if in flight reached out and upon each palm a golden egg of energy appeared and the eyes of the birds shone from a source unknown. With a nod of his head, the birds circled downward and Kyra, in suite, glided back to the deck. "Papa, how did you do that?"
"I didn't. We did."
"How?"
"You believed. And when you believe, when your heart is but a vessel for the greater Love, unfiltered in the dross of life, then, my dear, you and I, we, together, can do magnificent things. Now hug me."
Grand watched. Her eyes as a lake after a hard rain, brimming with love, reflective of the love before her eyes, the love of a grandfather for his granddaughter.
10 comments:
The chapter here correlates to impact upon reading, as so often happens, to read is to soar, to be uplifted, to be bathed in brilliance. :-) Just to read that first line, to hear mention of Papa, of Grand, to know we are about to see Kyra as a child once again within their embrace and I felt a great welling of happiness, not knowing yet what was coming, but knowing with absolute certainty that whatever it was, it would be beautiful, that it would cause the heart to soar. Not least at the heart that sees this, creates it. Papa in his white tunic, better still since the unveiling of his portrait, but so well-described in many chapters, his silver hair and to quote his grace, your story lives and breathes and I know not of any other piece of writing, large though this is to compare to, where the characters are so vital, where they appear so vividly as they speak and move. And dance. Within this chapter, I loved best the sentence that reads; Papa moved from toe to finger as the wave unrolls upon the beach,, to see him within as one, smiling along with Grand and Kyra to watch him this way. The idea for this chapter, there is nothing I can say other than that you amaze me once again, what you do with these chapters is more so, from heart to keyboard and from there it spreads to all who receive, the glow, you send out a glow and it has the potential to be infinite. How bout that. Amazing to watch, amazing to be a part of. Loved this chapter.
Hard to explain, but from an emotional level, there is no place in this story I'd rather be than at Valla with Kyra and Papa and Grand. Ever notice how no one else is ever there? :-D
These Papa/Kyra chapters, all of them, will always be very close to my heart and, to me, seem very different than the other chapters I write. I'm not sure how, maybe I just feel the difference, but in my mind they stand apart. A happy place. Good things happening. Love as it should be. Drama free. ;-)
I liked that sentence too and debated on the form it took or to write it like this: Papa moved from toe to finger like a wave rolling upon the beach. Small difference, yet, I'm not so sure this version isn't better than what I used. I also debated the verb 'moved' a rather weak verb, played with using flowed or glided or something similar. Such is a first draft. So many little decisions, in most every sentence, always looking for a melody of sound, a flow of words into sentences into paragraphs into a chapter. One seamless flow. A perfect fit. One day. ;-)
Papa comes across to me as a benevolent character. He is almost God-like and his explanation of believing/faith and 'doing that' together makes him seem like it more so. In my mind, there is a lot of imagery in this chapter. That it could represent something akin to a religious experience. In MY mind!
I love reading about Kyra as a little girl. I enjoyed this very much.
So sLeEpY right now... turning in.
Be blessed Tree.
Jennifer
In the '-roll-' you have the flow, the glide, that gives move its place at the head of the line to my mind, now I've been doing my best not to point out a special quality that you have, but it is the simplicity of this sentence that gives it it's outstanding beauty. Such a small change between unrolls and rolling there is though one suggests end more so than the other, but at the same time it speaks of natural progression and a time of rest, an end purpose, or not purpose as such, but that the movement mattered. Rolling suggests continuous, rhythmic, hypnotic - the sea before it reaches the shore. Many forks indeed rising out of your keyboard, :-), as soon as I personally try to make the call on a preference, the other vies refusing to be ignored.
Well, there was the chapter with Von...;-) I know, just kidding. Along with what you have mentioned here, these chapters are also the most pellucid, so to speak, just, as I wrote, to know a Valla chapter is upcoming is to instantaneously feel the warmth that emanates between them.
And they stay, like a memory, like a gift.
(blissful sigh)
I just have to say that I love Kyra. She is my favorite character. And I love her name, it is so pretty. Another great chapter!
Thanks Jane. Always nice to see you stopping by. :-)
Pellucid, now there is a word I need to use again. Sweetest, pellucid windows line the walls within the house of your heart, the light without refulgent from the light within.
I think Papa has pellucid eyes. :-)
Jen, I think your mind is very close to the Papa I know and I wouldn't argue with your interpretation. Thoughts and prayers for you and the family as you make your move toward the Gulf. Moving is hard. Moving away is harder. Take care, Jen. :-)
You're support is a treasure to me Tree. Thank you.
We visited yesterday, Hubby and I, and I am less afraid. My tendancy is to have a day of real mourning when a change comes my way. Then all of my energies are focused on adapting. My post about the move was written with swollen eyes and a grieving heart. True mourning.
And I am over it.
Now I am ready to help my husband and kids start this new adventure and do it with great success.
Your kind words give me even more courage. Makes me feel as though I am BRAVE!!!
Jennifer
Jen, goes without saying. All the best my friend. :-)
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