Letters for Astrid
Letters for Astrid Crossroads were not marked, roads not paved. Down into a hungry hollow, down we went, through green and green. Down into silence and what got left here when glaciers pulled away. I’d love to see your dark eyes take it in: moss and fern, the tall, thin trees, boulders big as houses split right through top to bottom. You could run around here all day, chasing chipmunks, hiding in the cloven rocks, imagining wood nymphs and talking bears. I tried to tell you about it when your mother called, how hard to find, how magical it was. But you were off on your own adventure, asleep on your mother’s chest. Every few seconds she’d bend to kiss the top of your head. Touch is its own enchantment. You don’t need fairy tales or forests yet, or even grandparents. But when you’re ready, Astrid Love, all that, all we who wait, will be ready for you too. S. Robbins, August 13, 2020
Sherry Robbins 