By Mobi Ho about her son, Bruce (7)
Shortly after the children and I returned from Plum Village this summer, Bruce and I discovered a dead baby squirrel in our front yard. We could tell it had only recently died, as it was still warm. Its tail was so tiny and soft. We felt sad and stood and watched our breath for a moment. I was on my way out,
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By Mobi Ho about her son, Bruce (7)
Shortly after the children and I returned from Plum Village this summer, Bruce and I discovered a dead baby squirrel in our front yard. We could tell it had only recently died, as it was still warm. Its tail was so tiny and soft. We felt sad and stood and watched our breath for a moment. I was on my way out, but Bruce said he would bury the squirrel. When I returned home later I saw a small paper sign attached to a stick next to one of our rosebushes. I bent down to take a closer look and read the words in Bruce’s careful printing:
Here lays a small
dead squerl
ready to
become a Rose
From The Mindfulness Bell, Vol.1, #1 (Jan. 1990)
