Life Begins Again And Again

This is a piece written by my grandmother, Better Tarbell Barten.  It was published in Flutterbyes, a compilation of prose and poetry from the East Aurora Writers Guild.

Does life begin when the doctor grabs you by the heels and whacks you on the back­side? Or, as some believe, at the time of conception? Or did it start eons ago and will it go from here into eternity?

If the beginning is the living and breathing as we earthlings know it, doesn't it start when the body and mind are able to feel joys, heartache, sorrow and happiness? Or on some special day, marked by an occur­rence that changes our whole life, our thinking -- maybe an occurrence over which we have no control.

For a person to travel through this world and not have life begin again and again is a sad commentary for use of the heart.

In looking back fifty years or more, I feel life begins all over for me whenever I hear the laughter of little children, or hold a squirming puppy. Or when I waken from a nap and hear a kitten purring at my feet.

As my mind wanders down lanes of the past, I recall my 16th birthday. I returned from the store, turned on the light and twenty people hollered, "Surprise."

The world was my 'oyster' then, making each day a new beginning. I had that first date with the "unattainable guy" -- so through the years I have come to know the love of a very good man.

Even the hard times made life begin again -- like when the anesthetic wore off and I heard the doctor say, "Everything is fine, the lump was benign.

Then, as I held each of our children for the first time, I knew God had given treasures beyond description and the s shone gloriously on all our days.

Each child slipped into a place of his or her own -- their first smiles, their firs steps, their first days at school.

And family camping! Every day a new beginning there as the coffee perked, the bacon fried and the kids rolled out of their sleeping bags. Many happy hours were spent this way as the years raced into yesterdays.

The high school graduations came rapidly into focus and went on to the college ones, the weddings and then the delightful grand­children snuggling contentedly on my shoulder.

When my husband is two hours late coming from work, then walks in unharmed from his day in the city, life starts anew.

It keeps on its beginning course when, only half awake in the early morn, the sun­beams dance across my bed, bounce off the wall and come to rest on my eyelids.

I hear a bird belting out a song after a spring rain as I walk down the streets of our village, suddenly realizing I know so many friendly people just from living here so long.

Hope is always a beginning and it is hope that makes me think my rainbow is near and I will be profiting from all the showers.

Finally, life begins again when I real­ize I am the "older" generation and it doesn't bother me a bit. I’ve made those longed-for trips to far-away places. I have stopped fighting myself, knowing deep down of my own insignificance in this vast universe of souls.

ME isn't the important part of living, even living isn't the most important thing.

As I talk to God, life begins again in my heart. It makes me know that when this life ends, I will be leaving the world a better place. And, for the next step into eternity,

that is a good beginning^.