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A CABIN FILLED WITH MEMORIES
I’ve said this before (and I’ll likely say it again!) about our cabin in the trees…
How it’s not just a cabin…it’s a cabin filled with memories.
Memories…compiled from the time our children and grandchildren were small…
each memory plays a part in the magic painted on its walls.
And the way I feel about our cabin…I know I’m not alone
because everyone who’s ever visited…takes away memories of their own.
Some of our memories that surface when we reach the cabin…are of Deborah’s sister Pris…
Her memories remind us of how much fun we had together…
and how much and often she is missed.
After her funeral in Florida years ago we escaped to our cabin
and that same evening a luna moth perched herself upon our door….
in all our years coming to the cabin…we’d never seen one there before.
When we saw the luna moth we immediately took her as a sign…
a message from Pris herself…that everything was fine.
The luna moth…was telling us…in a natural way so sweet…
that when it came to Pris from this world to the next…her transformation was complete.
Now when we visit the cabin…we’re never sure how or when…
Pris, in her luna moth form, will visit us again.
This morning on our porch I sat down to write a poem…
(after last nights rain the morning air was colder)
and as I was wondering what I was going to write…A luna moth landed on my shoulder.
I’m not great at understanding Luna moth speech…but near as I could tell
Pris wanted her family to know that she’s still doing well.
And she wanted her sister, her children, her grandchildren,
and great-grandchildren to know…from wherever luna moths come from…
how proud she is of all of them…and the people they’ve become.
So perched upon my shoulder…in the early morning dawn
Pris helped me write this little poem…and when we finished…she was gone.
You may be wondering if these luna moths who visit at the cabin then depart…
are really Pris or just a little bit of wishful thinking on my part…
It could be this phenomenon is a lot like love…all in the eye of the beholder…
then again I think I’ll wait around and ask Pris…the next time she lands upon my shoulder.
Copyright ©
Jim Yerman
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