north of boston
We went on the memory walk this weekend. We got the chance to meet Cara and we stood with everyone else under grey skies, listening as she told us a little about her Emma Grace and as she read the names of all the other missing babies.
Afterwards, we wandered through an old cemetery in the churchyard of a nearby town. We read the names and dates etched into slate and marble, looked at carvings of urns and willows, lambs and cherubs. We both took photos, but it wasn't until I got home that I realized that all my pictures were of exactly the same thing -- not the gravestones themselves, but the spaces between them.
21 comments:
Talk about the forest through the trees. (Or maybe the lack of forest?)
Thank you, Niobe.
Thought provoking indeed!
Could you say their names out loud?
Missedconceptions: You mean the names of my twins? No, I didn't include those names on the list. I don't think I could bear to say them or even to hear them.
What Tash said.
did you decide to take cole, or am i confusing this event with another?
Sarah: I decided to leave Cole at home. Interestingly, while there were at least a dozen children at the memory walk, I don't think I saw a single baby (though I'm not sure if this was by chance or design).
You cannot quit me so quickly
There's no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I got all the time for you, love
The Space Between
The tears we cry
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The Space Between
The wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep safe from the pain
But will I hold you again?
These fickle, fuddled words confuse me
Like 'Will it rain today?'
Waste the hours with talking, talking
These twisted games we're playing
We're strange allies
With warring hearts
What wild-eyed beast you be
The Space Between
The wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
Will I hold...
Look at us spinning out in
The madness of a roller coaster
You know you went off like a devil
In a church in the middle of a crowded room
All we can do, my love
Is hope we don't take this ship down
The Space Between
Where you're smiling high
Is where you'll find me if I get to go
The Space Between
The bullets in our firefight
Is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you
The rain that falls
Splash in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into...
The Space Between
Our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain
Take my hand
'Cause we're walking out of here
Oh, right out of here
Love is all we need here
The Space Between
What's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you
The Space Between
Your heart and mine
Is the space we'll fill with time
The Space Between...
And the webs between.
Yes, I did mean the names of your twins.
i'll be thinking about this for awhile. For me often much of the story lies in the spaces inbetween and is defined by what surrounds it.
North of Boston used to be a place of solace for me. I hope the walk was good for you.
Amazing shots.
While I hate to sound corny "it's the middle that counts that counts the most."
Grad3: Yeah, that's it. Like, uh, an oreo!!! (you can tell that I have that mad analogy skillz thing going)
Painted Maypole: That says it perfectly. I'll never hear those lyrics quite the same way again.
i had to dig out that Dave Matthews album and listen to it. I've been singing it all day now. And they'll never be the same for me, either.
Thank you, on behalf of me and my son.
those spaces make the marks more meaningful, don't they?
that must have been intense. it must still be so hard, at times, Niobe.
If it wasn't for the spaces in between, nothing would ever stand out.
Very cool...and I love the poem painted maypole posted.
Niobe - I have been absent for a few days, working my 'real life' job and just got to this post.
Meeting you was an experience I'm struggling to put into words...although I plan to try, and seeing those shots both makes me tear with their meaning and relieved that you found said nearby town even with my shoddy directions!
Off to read Julia's post...I feel more tears coming
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