37 • Gold

Gold

I was thinking about the Robert Frost poem this week, Nothing Gold Can Stay.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

It seemed particularly appropriate as I walked past these beautiful lilac trees yesterday -- all the sweet smells and charming colors of spring last such a short while. Lilacs bring vivid memories of my Yiayia Jennie, my dad's mom. She loved lilacs, and had them her yard. The smell takes me right back there, eagerly bringing stems of fragrant flowers into her kitchen as if they were a brilliant surprise. She too was gold -- as we all are. We come, we radiate (we hope!) joy and beauty to the world around us, and then we fade away. We are stunning, and we wilt. I don't mean it to be depressing -- it is just the truth. A reminder to enjoy it while it is, because at some point, it won't be any more. And if we don't notice, see--experience--this gold that surrounds us, it will vanish and we won't even have the memory. How grateful I am to, even for a moment, be back in Yiayia's yard tossing lilacs like confetti across the grass, or peering through the water-glass vase of purple petals as the adults talked over coffee. Nothing gold can stay.