Our friend Anne is in town. She met us before we were a couple and has been with us through thick and thin, literally. The last time she was here I was heavily pregnant with Briar. We’ve spent the last few days playing and catching up. Lucky for us she’s been taking pictures and capturing magic in every shot. Here’s to old friends, new memories, and falling in love all over again.
The route is familiar, stone walls blending into manicured shrubs into wide expanses of impossibly green lawn and back to stone walls. My feet pound against the pavement in rhythm with music I don’t yet know. The sounds a melange of voices and beats from Sean’s iTunes library, muted snares and a soulful wail, digital pulses and angry raps. I pump my arms, breathing in and out, my mouth hardening and blurring between smile and wince. Traveling in this way I am in tune with my body, every tensed muscle and each jiggle are automatically cataloged in my mind. There is no judgment, it is unapologetically zen for me, this motion of self. I’ve had two children, girls. My self, my voice, two of…
No and know are keeping me busy and torn.Briar with her knowing and Avery with her noingIt’s not easy, this letting go and standing by. I catch myself pouting, a little jut of the lower lip here,a barely stifled whimper for just one more kiss.I don’t want to slow them down, or impose my needs,but my yearning to luxuriate in this time of dimpled bottoms and wet kisses is oppressive. I read your stories- Jack and Ben, a guilty Nutmeg, a deliriously happy Chelle, an exasperated but charmed mama in the trenches and I take solace. Some walk a path parallel to my own, others are years ahead, yet each of you lift me up. I can see the beauty of 6, the complexity…
Between corporate blog posts and regional communications solicitation letters, I manage sweet interludes of play with the girls. Some days the fruits of that particular labor are sweeter than anything I could have ever dreamed.
I walked the girls to the sitter’s this morning. After dressing them for what the weatherman predicted would be another muggy day, I strapped the Baby Bjorn to my chest and gathered the three pairs of shoes we would need. Avery came to me in her teetering Franken-walk, arms high above her head, mouth wide open and her eyes glinting with “Look at what I can do!” She grabbed the straps of the carrier while rotating her body and launched herself into my chest, an emphatic, “Carry me now, mama!” I paused, this moment with her body against mine rocked me to the core. Walking has curbed her once frequent showers of hugs and kisses for me. I did not want to take her…