My walk through that little, quaint New Mexican town became engraved in my memory as a treat to stream, like a movie through my mind whenever I'm running low on joy. Do I remember that day because I was a tourist enjoying the irresponsible freedom of that temporary escape one feels while on vacation? Or because the moment was simply other worldly?
I can still see the people lined up for mass before the ornate doors of that old church, the bell's loud clang creating a chime of reverberating waves caressing the hopes of non-believers, confirming the faith of believers, uniting everyone with tiny glimpses of heaven.
Nearby, multi-generations of one family gathered to celebrate their blood connection. I wonder if they noticed me standing outside their huge yard, ogling their plates of tantalizing Mexican food being passed around like soul nutrition, admiring how they loved their babies, how children, adults and the elderly intermingled, how their laughter drowned out the sound of the church bell creating instead the sound of love.
To this day, that scene evokes a variety of thoughts. Primarily, that I'm grateful for my own little family. But I also entertain Pollyannish wishes. Is it possible that within the cosmic scope, humanity is just one small family? And we can celebrate a reunion? Someday?
A family's love
Resounds through the universe
Like a bell in Spring
(For Poets United.)