“In the reflection of the sun, her mother is the moon;
in the shadow of the moon, she, is twilight.”
I wake up every morning about eight o’clock to the sounds of a little Biddle-Bop coo-ing and goo-ing. She has a cherish-able delightfulness about her that gets my day started on the right foot, even if I do wake up on the wrong side of the bed. A feeling of warmth bubbles deep down inside of me, and this lovely volcano assures me that it will be spewing over very soon. Today will be another good day, I am reminded.
A little twilight-colored darling, dressed in fairytale-green clothing, Alice is and will be anything but ordinary. I never thought I would see this day, not even in a thousand years. Let alone did I think to make such a great idea as this–to bring a little mystery of grace and light into this world, a world that is so often dark and cold.
She’s like me; like me but … glorified. If I could return back to those freshly innocent beginnings, I would look similar. I would look promising. Perhaps even as promising as the beauty of the cherub herself. My glow pales in comparison to the light that colors the sky just before the dusk. Her smile glorifies the creator, and her maker relishes in the delight of his craftsmanship in this one.
Did I mention Alice’s charming nature? Well it’s beyond all telling, of course. That twinkle in her eye would have any star put to meekness. Though that playful look in her big blues seems to be foreshadowing a future of mischief! I’ll have to remind myself that the glasses I wear must never become a rosy-colored hue.
Ahh… rose, like the color of the undertones in my little darling’s cheeks. To match her little petaled-pout, which only needs a stem to become the most glorious of flowers. Now mind you, as her mother, I am determined to help this little rose grow into the holiest of plants. For “beauty is fleeting and charm is deceptive…” and, well, you know the rest.
But fear not! For her father has promised her to be a shield maiden, a woman of valiant honor, worthy of utmost respect and praise. Men of all statures, from near and far will sing her these praises. With the confidence of the mother whose children “rise up and call her blessed”, Alice will shine on consecrated. At last, she will be a mystical rose, like her mother the moon. A little, TWILIGHT. Alice, my little twilight.
Elizabeth Gracy is a mother, wife & writer. Her interests include developing as a Montessori educator, growing in Carmelite spirituality, and caring for her children. She has a degree in Speech Pathology and attended Texas A&M’s Master of Public Health program.