posted in: Writing Blog | 0


The sand falls through the hourglass. It begins in an eager tumble, steadies to a soothing flow.

Hunter watches, transfixed. Tiny pieces of mica in the sand shimmer and catch the light as the sand moves, falling from the top, piling to a mound in the bottom.

Mama. Look! This is where the light lives!

As the top bulb empties, I watch the hollow in the sand grow bigger. And, I realize Hunter is right. This is where the light lives. In the moments – tumbling so fast, piling up behind us – shifting, moving, being buried by the next moment and the next. The single shining moments that make up life, hold the light we crave.

Like the last slurp of bathwater swirling down the drain, the final grain falls though.

Movement stops. The shimmering ceases. Points of light still shine from within the spent pile, but the magic is over.


We snuggle closer, giggle, and turn the hourglass upside down once again. This is where the light lives.

Leave a Reply