Inchworm!

Poor little inchworm

with all his inchworm traits,

crawled onto the yard stick

but he was only seven-eighths.

“It’s because of your posture”

his mother did say,

“There’s a hump in your back

that just won’t go away!”

“I forgot about my hump!”

he said with a laugh,

then he stretched himself out

to an inch and a half.

~Charlie Parant

"Look, Mommy! He's moving!"

If I am a woman who celebrates small beauties, who revels in the common magic that surrounds us and waits so patiently to be noticed, I have my mother to thank.

My mother, who stopped to pick trilliums in May. My mother, who caught fireflies in a jar to hold under our quilt at night. My mother, who laughed with glee every time we brought her the treasure of an inchworm, found twirling at the bottom of a thread descending from a tree. I learned to cherish the quirks of nature from her: to run outside every time there was a rainbow, to celebrate each new bud and flower, and to stop to take it all in.

Now that I am a mother, busier than I have ever been in my life, I pause to thank her for these lessons; when has stopping for a moment to breathe and appreciate this wonderfilled life meant more than it does now that I have children with whom to share it?