While we were swimming at the pool today, a little boy got hurt. I'm not sure what or how it happened. I heard someone say he hit his head on the slide. The whistles were blown and everyone was asked to get out of the pool so that the lifeguards could devote their full attention to helping the child get the care he needed. In the end, it seemed as though the boy's injury was minor - still, it was a serious moment for everyone there. This stirred Beatrix quite a bit. She saw the lifeguards very gently and carefully secure the boy onto a stretcher. Soon, the paramedics came. The pool was still as we all sat, wondered, and waited.
Rightfully so, she was so concerned for this little boy. She had so many questions about the incident. Did I see it happend? Who were the paramedics? Where was the ambulance? Where are they taking the little boy? Is he going home? Were you watching me swim, Mama to make sure I didn't bump my head?
A few weeks ago, there was a conversation in the car between she and I that had me pulling over to the side of the road. It was that important. It had to do with how we became a family. She had big questions. I'm not sure if I had the right answers. Her story, our story...it's tender.
At bedtime, she's confided to me incidents with her friends that didn't sit well with her. Like all of us, she is, at times, perplexed by people's actions.
She is achingly earnest. And though I don't hover over her in preventing scraps and bruises so much, I am finding myself hovering over the safety of her heart. As best as I can. Which is an impossible task it seems.
Sometimes, in the moments where there is nowhere to get to, no laundry to fold, or dishes to wash, no garden to tend to, I can sit and be with her. In these quiet moments, she reveals a piece of her being, of the person she will one day grow up to be. I swear, I can taste the innocence drip out from her little heart. Gosh, is it ever bittersweet.