The following is my entry for the Sakura Bloom Sling Diaries Volume VI on the theme of "A Day in the Life."
One day, when you are old enough to wonder, you might ask about these days. These days before you can remember. Days that are forging who I am, who you will become.
And I will tell you of oatmeal mornings with strawberries, stained and sticky fingers, bees buzzing at the screen door.
I will tell you of sleepless nap-times, the singular comfort of a creaking rocking chair, your heavy nursing breaths and tears upon your cheeks.
I will tell you of mornings we climbed mountains; the countless times we nursed - in coffee shops and parking lots and on our favorite couch; the way I wore you every day, your head rested on my heart.
I will recite for you times of resplendent delight - bright baby belly laughs sounding over rain; the still, quiet hour when sleep steals in with the afternoon sun. I will attempt to convey the way your eyes light up to hear your daddy's briefcase rolling click-click-clickity-click up the drive; the wildest shrieks of joy which only he bears power to coax from your lips; the homey, peaceful scent of your freshly washed hair; the perfect comfort of your skin on mine; your head heavy with sleep on my breast.
But I will be utterly at a loss to describe to you how joyful and thoroughly dizzy with living we were. How bright and vulnerable, how filled with hope and purposeful pain this season is. How you were new every day; how yet it all seemed the same, until abruptly we looked up to find nine months disappeared since you first drew breath.
I will fail to adequately impart to you the glory that is found in washing dishes with a screaming baby on the hip; the precious joy to be drawn from the mundane; the supreme worth of this work, this mothering of you.
But you will know then, I so hope, my dear, that you were, and are, and will be forever