My grandson, Q, is a senior in high school this year. We were talking last night about the future. He is rushing towards it at the speed of light it seems. His eyes light up as he tells of his plans to teach and the things he wants to accomplish.
Watching him I drifted back to his beginnings. Born on an island, child of sunshine and laughter, I remember days of playing on the beach with a small boy dancing in circles on the sand and laughing with delight when seagulls took the bread he offered.
He was as golden as the sun that shone down on the water with his warm brown skin. His big dark eyes were full of laughter though sometimes you caught glimpses of storms flashing in their depths. His days were filled with water games and watching dolphins swim in the wake left by the boat as we sailed through the bright and shiny sea.
He loved eating shrimp. He loved it so much we had to watch him closely when it was served. He would stuff it in so fast that his chewing couldn’t keep up. He loved surfing. He would wade into the shallows, boogie board under his arm, and catch the tiny breakers, laughing gleefully when he toppled off into the warm Gulf water.
If Q were a quilt he would be turquoise blue as the sea, bright as the golden sun, green like the palm trees swaying in the coastal breezes, with a dash of the white Port Isabel lighthouse. Oh, and coral like the delicate shrimp he loved to eat.
When I think about it, all of life is a bit like a quilt. You have a piece of this, a shade of that, stitching that weaves it all together to make a story. My island boy is far away from his island now. But, as I listen and watch I see that island come to life inside him. My laughing dark haired boy with the flashing eyes. Now if I can only catch those images in cloth.
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