Live Free: this love and this letting go.

A couple of nights this week we've had really strong thunderstorms that have awoken us all. Beatrix has crawled into our bed with us on both of those nights. The storm on the second night seemed to hammer in what the first one was trying to achieve. The thunder roared and rolled and vibrated our house and rattled the windows. It was a humbling storm indeed, one of those that can't help but smack down the lofty power and control that we humans think we hold. During Mother Nature's grand show, I rolled over to spoon Bea only to realize that Byron was doing the same. And I thought in my sleepy, hazy mindset of comfort and protection because here we were, the three of us, in the middle of the night, buried under our layers of bedding, holding on to each other. Shielding the little one in the only way we knew how - with cuddles and covers.

Sometimes I wonder when she'll stop joining us. Surely she will stop at some point. At what point in her life will she feel (or act) strong enough on her own even when the world around looks and sounds threatening. I'm hoping that one day she'll find our collective strenghth within her, not because having more bed space is nice (well, it is...), but because it's the natural progression of it all.

Yesterday, we noticed our cat venturing across the street to the field on the other side. The grasses are tall there and as Blackie stealthily weaved in and out of knee high blades, she looked up at me and said, "Mama can you hold me up so I can watch him?" And of course, I was just waiting for her to ask. To give me permission to hold her. She's four years old. She's not exactly my baby that needs to be carried anymore. Yet, as much as I am still her bolster, her security, she is mine. So many times, I have to remind myself that she doesn't need me to hold her anymore. And that my hand is enough. And so often, I wonder, what day will be the last in which I bend down, pick her up, fit her body against mine, and rest her on my hip. What will I do without her sweet little body and her squooshy cheeks to caress against my own?

It is the same. This love and this letting go. The need to push forward and the need to hold on. From the sleepness nights of infancy to the 1001 daily questions of a four year old. This girl needs me all the same. Though she and I, as in mama and daughter, will have a relationship that will continue to grow in complexity and I can't help but smile about that thought. I can't wait to know who she will be in 5 years, 20 years, or 40 years from now. For now though, I must accept. I must embrace that I'm her home plate.

There is no doubt. One day she will stop crawling into bed and nuzzling between her mama and daddy. One day I will not be able to hold her on my hip. Those days will come. I know when they do, most of me will be ready for it. But I'm sure a small piece of my heart will always be left wondering where did my little one disappear to? And what's that empty space on my hip.

Comments

That made me cry! I think we'll always miss it, although who knows how or to what degree. Me, I'm holding out for the grandchildren already (my daughter is 3...)

Posted by: Rach | May 20, 2013 at 06:09 AM