Staring At A Wall

Years ago, when my parents were still alive, I would see my mother or my father resting quietly in bed, staring at the wall. I wondered then what each one of them was thinking of.

Yesterday, when Aubrey came home from school, she stepped into my room and caught me resting in bed, doing the same thing--staring at the wall. Those moments from the past rushed back to me, and I reflected. While I was staring at the wall, I was thinking of the things I did in the past that I wish I'd done differently, how they affect my present, and what I can do about them in the future. I was also thinking of my children and my grandchildren, how I'd raised them, and what journeys lie ahead of them. It is probably while one is resting in bed and staring at a wall when such things descend upon one's being.

I am certain that Aubrey was wondering what I was thinking of. Yet, how could I communicate all of that to her in so many words?

Aubrey did not ask me anything, as I did not ask my parents anything when I was a child. I would not have completely understood my parents then, and neither would Aubrey have completely understood me had I told her what I was thinking of.

Aubrey will understand everything someday, when she has children and grandchildren of her own.