Befores

Befores Did I ever see the present through these panes? I can’t recall, but doubt it for Nows are always tainted in some way by yearning hopes or grieving losses. Befores and Afters so much more alluring, I have found. Today, I see yesterday as clearly in the smeared mullioned glass as if in a vivid dream, though I am full awake. The twins, neat and clean in crisp white shorts, blond hair tousled by a summer breeze, giggling of course – there’s always laughter in Befores. Cobalt eyes squinting into everlasting sun, tiny hands waving at something out of my view, an improbable butterfly, I like to believe. Unlikely, I concede, on that stretch of beach, but anything was possible then. Even sounds were richer, more lush and definite, not muffled and whispery, shrouded in unspoken grief. Crunchy pebbles, throaty chuckles, chattering birds, All voices of optimism and certainty. And life, in the Before. There is no After to consider.