KADENCE TURNS TWELVE TODAY

10,11,12. She turns Twelve today, my youngest grand-girl. And I do marvel at the sensation of speed for the passing of years, since on Kadence’s second birthday I wrote this … “She is a cuddler. She comes to me with ease and climbs aboard my lap, lays her head on my chest and loves me. We will walk for long times together, her head on my shoulder as I sing nonsensical songs while she tucks into my warmth and the reverb of my voice. It’s a good match.”

I reprise a poem that I composed shortly after she was born. It has turned out suitably descriptive of the young woman celebrating today. 

DAYS OLD, SHE SLEEPS
Long awaited she came, first a wife for a son
Then a daughter for them both
A sister for their boy.

A new sight for older eyes
Another life to love and nurture.
And now on one of those following days
The two girls sleep
Gina and her child.
'Kadence' meaning “with rhythm”
Is rarely given
So Kadence with a K she is
A strident girl, a girl with a voice
A girl who will be heard
A girl who will sing and laugh
And make parents proud
And give grandparents joy.
They sleep now, one only days old
But soon we will wonder where the years went. 

And today, March 13, 2019, Kadence will fully possess each moment, posing, smiling and filling everyone around her with cheerfulness. Happy Big Birthday sweet girl, Kadence.

WALKING EACH OTHER HOME

Walking Each Other Home

Christine and I have stepped off seven plus decades of time while we have inhabited earth. Our cadence was distinct and independent through our first two decades of life and then we met. Immediately we found a rhythm, a shared stride while dating at college. That uniform gait breezed us effortlessly past other sidewalkers to graduation and marriage. In unison we strode our way through unfamiliar terrain illuminated by faith in One who prescribes our steps. Came work. Came babies. Came Joys. Came hardships. Mutual trust was fundamental to our ongoing unified pace. Not easy for her to walk with a flawed partner for whom perfection was imperative. Not easy for me to recognize the defects in my own march. I didn't see. Not then. I didn't see that she walked to my beat. Always. I didn't see. She was entitled to tramp her own trail. So gifted she was that her own walk could have taken her farther. I didn't see. A trail not separate from but conjoint with mine. That even so we could have trekked together. She was patient. I didn't see and my culture didn't teach me. Exceedingly patient, she. Along our dual journey it was I who received an honour here, a recognition there. And she was always glad for me. Yet she should have been applauded. She deserves such celebration still. Wondrous person, she, I have sensed for a long time, that though we walk together, it is she who sets the pace. Challenges appear as time goes on and while our pace slows down, we each are content in knowing that we are walking each other home.    

© Ron Unruh, January 2019