Thursday, September 29, 2011

Chasing the Wind

If you can, listen along to what plays while I write:

I work.
She plays.
I hope that my hours at the computer,
fiddling with fonts, shapes, colors,
won't somehow scar her for life.

I hope that the breaks we take to dance,
to snack on popcorn
and watch Rapunzel swing on her hair,

I hope that these moments
aren't lost on her.

She stands in the center of the living room,
her curls bouncing straight toward the sky,
tossing back her head,
she sings.

"Ask what I'm singing about, mom."
"What are you singing about?"

She asks to spin
"like a beautiful dancer"
and I hold one finger,
while she twirls on the hardwood.

She asks to color,
the glitter pens are pulled from the
beat-up green bin,
and she draws people.

And if anyone is crying,
it's only because they didn't get to sing,
or dance,
or eat their cookie.

"You're so happy, Mom."
she says,
while drawing a jagged line around my head.
"Your hair."

Raising a child is hard,
and magical.
When was the last time,
you sang a song about cracking open eggs,
sweeping the kitchen,
or getting the mail?

She peers out the window,
do you smell it?"

"Smell what, Maddie?"

"The wind. It's right here Mom. Come."


  1. I just cried a little. You're a blessed lady. :)

  2. Rambling Heather - thank you! :)

  3. Liz - I am. Very. I have to stop sometimes and remind myself, because I so easily forget. But when I look around, I see it.

  4. Precious. A little child shall lead them.

  5. Amanda - yes. she spills sometimes with beautiful things. i know i should be paying more attention.

  6. Love this. You're seeing and listening. Love this.

  7. oh wow. this was incredibly touching... thank you so much for linking friend. for preserving these precious moments.

  8. dee - thanks sister. :)
    emily — thanks for having this link-up. it's been really life-giving to me.