Innocence Reborn (A Lori Tale)

Lori is a child muse. When life is complicated, I bring her to me for her innocence and her simplistic views of the world, and the creativity she brings to my work.

It’s been a long while since I’ve felt connected. There feels in my heart a sense of urgency, a warning about not leaving things too late. Sitting here, I can see a tree in bloom and have learned more about trees and meadows, while feeling out of place in the Midwest but close to my grandchildren.

What if all this greenery was gone? That I was, instead, looking out on a desolate landscape, flat, and featureless. Would that be the explosive collision course we are on with our fellow man, a planet scarce of lifeforce? How are we going to deal with such weighty matters as nuclear war?

Is Ukraine a vision of apocalyptical ruin?

Is the world in which we live unfixably fragmented?

“Hey, Mr. Harry, are you going to let me in?”

Oh no, can that be Lori? I’m dreaming, she’s been out of my mind so long I’m now imagining her call.

“No, Mr. Harry. I’m here, let me in.”

But there’s no gate, no secret driveway, and without those, and the ocean, there can be no Lori.

“Mr. Harry, have you been drinking? Can you clear your mind for a moment? Let me in Mr. Harry?”

“Is it really you, Lori. My head is a mess.”

“You sure are right about that, Mr. Harry. There’s a lot of ugly stuff in here. Can you clear it away for a short while? I’d like to sit down.”

“Yes, yes of course. There, is that clear enough?”

We all deserve to have fun, live large, find a time when all hearts are true friends. Such times have become rare as I’ve gotten older.

“I’ve never seen it so crowded, Mr. Harry. It’s so dark. Why is it so dark in here?”

“Oh child, it’s better you do not know. But now you’re here things will brighten up.”

“I hope so, Mr. Harry. It’s a little scary. It’s not like you. Can we at least talk about it?”

What will history tell our grandchildren? That in a crisis we gave up hope, and worse, confidence in our leaders. How will Ukrainian parents explain why young children’s lives lost their sparkle? What new stories will they be told to help them forget reality? Tell them that there is no isle of bliss, no ice cream in the street, no open doors in which to run through…

“Stop, Mr. Harry. You’re scaring me. Oh, look Mr. Harry, you’ve built a pond.”

“I have, Lori. Do you like it?”

“I do, Mr. Harry. This is our new meeting place. You’ll be beside the pond, and I’ll come through the wood to see you. Will that be alright, Mr. Harry?”

“It would be wonderful, Lori. I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. Harry. But when I call, you’re not listening. I think you don’t want me to visit, Mr. Harry.”

“Oh, that hurts me, Lori. I’m sorry. I’m confused all the time. Of course, I want you to visit.”

“Children don’t want to feel sorry, Mr. Harry. They want to feel strength and love. Sometimes we are not old enough to understand things. But we sense things, Mr. Harry. We sense sadness, upheavals, but we don’t understand. I know children die, Mr. Harry. I don’t understand why. We are like electric currents, here, there, up, down, and everywhere. That electricity, Mr. Harry, that is life. Do you want to know something, Mr. Harry?”

“Of course, Lori.”

“Do you know that innocence is reborn?”

“It is?”

“Yes. Innocent of cruelty, spite, blame, innocence is reborn, not to live long again, but to demonstrate what is possible if we live faultless lives. When children die, Mr. Harry. When they do not understand, they will be born again.”

“I want to believe you, Lori.”

“I don’t know these fish; you always talk to me about sea creatures.”

“Those are Koi fish, Lori. Popular in gardens in China and Japan.”

“Where is Japan, Mr. Harry.”

“A long way from here, Lori. It is a country with many ornamental gardens, and the splendid Koi fish live in beautiful ponds. Some have special markings which make them valuable to collectors.”

“Are yours special, Mr. Harry.”

“Don’t think so, Lori. Mine are just regular old Koi.”

“But they are so beautiful. Peaceful. Is that why you built your pond, Mr. Harry, to bring you peace?”

The world feels serene again. The way a child can instill beauty and interest in everything. It’s her innocence. That’s the peace. I could write letters, create stories, build ponds, but peace cannot be built, or created with words, it is the innocent interest of a child. Therein lies peace.

“Maybe you built the pond so I would come, Mr. Harry. I’ve never seen so many colors. When I come, can we always sit here?”

I sit down beside her and feel free of doubt. Lori is as brave and innocent as she has always been. She need not know what oppression fills the world.

“This darkness, Mr. Harry. It makes you sad. You’re not a lot of fun when you’re sad.”

“I guess not, Lori.”

“You don’t believe me, Mr. Harry. That makes me sad.”

“No, I want to, Lori. Oh, how I want to.”

“Mr. Harry, where did I come from? Tell me.”

I sit at the edge of the pond and see the redness of her hair on a fish, the freckles on another, the smile of a boy I once knew and loved.

“Well, Lori, you’re everyone I’ve ever loved, and love to this day.”

“That’s right, Mr. Harry. You bring me to you; I do not come. You call upon love to understand what you do not. They live again to inhabit your heart, are reborn, Mr. Harry. Children don’t die, they move to where they will be safe and loved forever.”

It happens, sometimes, I feel the urgency to remember. I have a mechanism for storying lives I want to cherish. I want to learn from them and leave them behind for others to love.

Children all over the world are dying in innocence.

I do hope their parents bring a ‘Lori’ to comfort them.

“I better be going, Mr. Harry. This is a peaceful place, calm, and promise me you won’t give up your power to the people who would takes us away. Promote peace, Mr. Harry. The innocent will always be at home. Bye now.”

“Bye, Lori. Thank you.”

For a moment I wonder about the children in the world, their little lives — open, true, real, and flat-out honest.

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