I used to hold your hand as we walked,
shortening my stride to match
your preschool pace,
pausing to point out the double shadow,
one long, one short,
stretching out before us.
We waved at our shadow selves.
How could we not? I love shadows,
those soft, always-shifting shapes,
and these two were our ever-present friends.
You grew into a frustrated, hurry-up child
complaining, “You always have to stop
and take a picture of shadows.”
And, yes, I always did.
I always made you wait,
for shadows are my friends.
I suspect they might be yours, too.
Today, hanging decorations and
tall enough to reach the upper branches
of the Christmas tree,
you called, “Come and look.”
I stepped close, leaned in.
“See? There’s a shadow.” You pointed
to a birdhouse ornament
shadowed with feathery pine needles.
“I know you like shadows,” you said.
It was as close to saying “I love you”
as you may ever venture.
Such a small thing—
a tiny birdhouse,
a tiny shadow,
a brief comment,
a moment of pausing,
a moment of sharing a shadow,
but it filled my heart with wonder,
with gratitude,
with love.
So I guess
it was not such a small thing after all,
for it meant the world to me.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.