know.
liz lamoreux
i want to know this person smiling right at me. i want to hear her laughter as she looks toward someone she loves who has managed to snap this moment of perfect joy.
this is what i said each time we watched this and came to this photo.
i want to know her, i would say to jon.
and sometimes tears would knock at the back of my eyes as my mind would catch up with my words.
what is she thinking in this moment? who surrounds her? she is not quite two and on the south carolina coast. more than thirty years ago. thirty years. she did not know that more than three decades later she would wish that she had memorized every second of this moment. we never realize how much we will want to remember each sound, touch, breath.
i see hope and a heart open to all that is to come. i see love. i see a little girl who already knows love.
i want to know her.
she is a teacher this one. she is a teacher and those around her on this day know this truth. yes. they do know as they look at her wide open heart taking in each moment, each sound, each touch, each breath. in the quiet places where they are safe being themselves, they know she is here to teach them to open their hearts even if only for one breath. open up, she whispers as the wind blows and she smiles with love on her face.
i want to know her.
i want to reach my hand through this photo and touch that soft cheek and say, please tell me all you know. please tell me what it feels like to love with such a softness, with such hope.
i want to know her.
and the tears tap at the backs of my eyes as my mind catches up with the truth,