Panpipes....

The pipes play in the background...haunting panpipes ..moving in and under her stress...the work week was over..

And the pipes play...vibrato but calming...

The dreaming begins...and words...always words to sort through...always questions whispering through her mind...

Others would watch her and say she is distracted...yes...she is...but not in the way they think...

And the pipes play...softly whistling higher....

Eyes closed she sees a field she ran in as a child...clover, white and lavender, the smell of bent grass beneath her bare feet...blades slipping between her toes...tickling and she giggles...as a child in that field she turns her face to the sun, closes her eyes and dances around in circles until she is so dizzy she falls laughing to the grass...she opens her eyes to watch the clouds shift and swirl into shapes.... her hands wanting to reach up and catch one to see if it tastes like cotton candy...

And the pipes play...low and melancholy...

Time lost but not wasted...waiting for the first new friend at the new home...waiting to see if she will fit better here....she remembers crying when she left the last place but she cannot dwell on that leaving when a new beginning was here again. Youth is resilient and so was she in some ways...in others...well...she'll think about that later when she is much older and has time to try to unravel the "why"s and "what for"s...

And the pipes...playfully skipping along...

Her children as babies...smelling of shampoo and lotion...first steps and smiles that touch a mother's heart...chocolate kisses and pudgy hands reaching with curiosity for anyone and anything...no limits in their worlds until mom starts setting loving boundaries...lines to keep them safe in their wonder in all things around them...keeping the bodies safe while teaching the spirits to fly...

And the pipes....majestic and filled with pride...

Her father in military uniform...walking down the tunnel to the airplane waiting to take him to the war...her 2 year old sister holding thier mom's hand until she realizes that dad is not with them...the baby breaking free from her mom and running towards the closing door. A year later at the same airport meeting someone who looked like her father but who's spirit had been beaten and battered by what he had seen...standing proud next to him while he recovered..ignoring slurs against him and the flag he represented without hesitation....

And the pipes sweetly saying that life is as it should be...sometimes happy, other times sad ...and some questions destined to remain mysteries ...