Darkness sinks slowly now, and tulips tilt their heads toward the sun.

It was this time of year when Celia's language began to blossom.  Her vocabulary grew while the forsythia burst into clouds of yellow.  She collected words and shared them like a bright bouquet, her voice as sweet as honeysuckle.

This spring Tucker talks.  He's been sprinkling "come" and "cup" and "dog" and "go" into conversations.  He disperses most words randomly though, and we smile when we catch one unfolding.   

All around us things are blooming, and we're grateful to participate in nature's renewal.


Poppy John said...

The same way that everyone remembers where they were when they learned of JFK's death or 9/11...I have another. I remember the exact spot, the room temperature, the brightness of the sun, the color of the carpet, etc., when Celia first talked to me. She crawled over and touched my oxford with her left index finger. She then looked up, smiled and said, "shoe." That's in my heart and blooms every time I think about her...throughout the year.
P.S. Andy My Boy,
It's official...my NCAA bracket is just "a list of teams that lost."

rht said...

Celia and Tucker have each had their own special version of that first friendly greeting -- "Hi!" Celia's involved one arm, raised up so high in the air, and her word "Hii ii iiii ii" was a long, lovely cascade of sound. Tucker's "Hi" is shorter, likely to be repeated, and frequently involves the energetic waving of both hands. Their greetings and smiles never fail to "make my heart happy," (as K would say!)