Captivated

The time when her cheeks were just this soft has past, and she’s been wearing glasses for half her life already.  But this is her – these are her inquisitive eyes, this her quiet intense look.  Readily absorbing all that is before her, watching carefully each detail, each important move, storing it up – for some  time or another.

I am captivated today with this amazing portrait sent to her from the artist, her Grandmother.  I can tell you the photo from which it is rendered, I can tell you the clothes she is wearing, I can remember they were not my favourite but they were what I had, I can’t however tell you what she is thinking, or even what she is looking at but I know the soft curve of those cheeks, the way she would look up at me and then away without a ripple across her face, just that look , as if by chewing on her lip, she could devour the world, bit by bit. 

Worlds of books have crossed those eyes, they have scanned mountains, prairies, hills, and sky.  I have wiped their tears, matched their glare, and gone soft in their shiny happiness.  I am held captive and have been for some time now.