Joy Parade

Oh, the joy on her face as she sees the cat food bowl. It’s a race. Quickly, quickly, her crawling body lunging, going so fast. She gets there before me, her head nodding back and forth. “No, no, no…” she laughs. More laughter, giddy now, as I pick her up, nestling my head into her belly with a tickle and a kiss, making her laugh all the more.

She grabs my hands and leads me on an adventure, taking big steps with my help, here head held high, feet kicking out as she goes. Walking, walking. She is proud and delighted as she walks by her brother, slipping a bit on his puzzle pieces as she trots on by.

“Devin, Devin…” she tries the word. I can tell she’s saying his name instead of some other “D” word by the volume she uses, a call frequently echoing through the sounds of our home, like the fervent search party until he’s been found.

This time, just a boisterous greeting. She struggles a bit with the decision to wave or not to wave. Then, with the daring, gusto and courage that has come to be a marker of who she is, she goes for it. Letting go of my hand, she teeters for a moment, body swaying right then left, left then right palm open then shut, open then shut, little hand greeting him robustly and delightedly, then teetering once more as her hand returns to mine.

We are off again, stepping, stepping, as she kicks her legs out with a smile. A 28 inch parade is happening by.

Sweet Moments

I wonder why I miss her so when I am away? Is it normal to miss her squiggly, wiggly, fun-to-hug body when I get to be with her all the time? I feel so grateful for this as I lay on the massage table for the reflexology, head rub purchased long before her birth, a treat to myself.

A babysitter has her now. I know she is okay and yet in that moment of missing, I want to be with her. I breathe through it, knowing it is breaks like this that make me happy too, breaks like this that make me stronger, breaks like this that awaken my insular world of caretaker and allow me to take care of me too.

I breathe in and the energy swirls around me and the missing shifts from one of longing to one of gratitude—grateful for those moments when I get to hold her, witnessing her little fingers curled around my own, celebrating her jack-o-lantern grin and silly antics. Grateful for just as many special moments with my son, for holding him as a baby to cuddles and intimate moments now, sweet stories told with him in the back seat as we drive together, he now a big boy. Sweet moments, all of them, the harrowingly difficult trespasses of motherhood and the tender love shared.

And sweet moment too is this. I breathe in and out, the acknowledgement of missing making the present moment all the more sweet somehow. For not too long from now, I know this one will be missed as well. And as the massage therapist rubs my brow with a brush stroke and pulls my hair oh, so gently, rubbing my scalp into sublime relaxing bliss, I am lost in the sweetness of now.