My memories of you. Falling asleep on my chest after nursing in the waning hours of the night. Your tentative delight of being in a warm bath. Your exertions and accompanying vocal effects when you were trying to lift your head for the first time. The grin when you took your first steps toward me. The refusals to nap. Eating lunch at Café Selmarie and then spending endless minutes in the toy shop up the street. Your curiosity and calm when your brother made his first appearance into the world.
The limitless love I have for you is tinged with exasperation at your burgeoning defiance, fear that you are prone to giving up too easily, concern that I’ve passed along my obsessive-compulsive, perfectionist, fear of failure tendencies to you. You exhaust me with your sheer joy and the ebb and flow of your energy. Yet, somehow, you’re able to step up to the challenge at precisely the right moments and wow me with your empathy, your innate understanding of the world, your capacity for deep wells of emotion.
You have already called me your best friend and that you always want to be with me. Although I make light of it, I am touched by the pureness of your love for me. I've done nothing but bring you into this world, and I'm not sure if I've fully equipped you just yet. I will try not to screw it up, though I’m afraid eventually I will disappoint you. It is inevitable. But, I will always be your mother and your safe haven.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
[almost] first snowfall of the season
Shuttling groceries and other sundry items between the garage and the house, I stopped for a minute and listened to the falling snow. You can hear the quiet it brings. It sounds like a whisper.
Something about snow dampens and softens the sounds of the city. Street noise is muted; it's almost as though the main drag near the house moved further away.
Something about snow dampens and softens the sounds of the city. Street noise is muted; it's almost as though the main drag near the house moved further away.
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