Reflections of A Green Lizard on a Pink Rose

When I was a small child, my mother showed me a tiny lizard curled up tight, sleeping in a small pink rose. It was an image that has stayed with me as much for the sight as my mother’s gentle guidance of my gaze.

Later, she and I came to love a poem that referenced a lizard sleeping on a stone. I’ve forgotten the poet’s name, but we spent a summer referencing it often in a book borrowed from the local lending library.

On one recent morning as I rushed to load up the kid and drive to my elderly mother’s bedside for a visit, I stopped and watched this fellow in my rose bush. He and the rose were full-grown, robust– and yet they were even larger-than-life with help from my memories.

Before we left home, I guided my son to see this vision, one so reminiscent of the one that I recall from long ago. Will he remember that shared moment years from now? Will he recall his mother’s hope that he notice in his world the echoes of his past?

Only time will tell, as it will reveal about so many things that we parents hope to see reach full flower in our lifetimes.

Update: I read this entry to my mother this morning, and she recalled the poet’s name: Paul Laurence Dunbar.

 

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