Just as the darkness got very dark

She woke suddenly when the mower across the street roared to life. Usually she signals her rising with jabber and slow kicks in her crib. Today she sounded scared.

*    

When we got back from dinner group last night the house felt like the thermostat was turned to "Tropical." I opened her window and turned on the fan, hoping she could sleep in the sweltering heat.  Sleep seemed to have come quickly, but just as quickly morning came and with it the sounds of busy neighbors and fresh cut grass.

I picked her up. She alternated between cries, pointing, and her car-honk noise: bap bap!. I let her know everything was okay. We walked to the window and I pointed: it was just a lawn mower. See?

She didn't want to leave my lap for a few minutes so I grabbed one of our favorite books off the top shelf and began reading (reciting, really). I got emotional reading the last few pages.

The sun went down
beyond the river.
The sky grew wild and red
and the little fur child
turned around and 
ran for home.

And just as the darkness 
got very dark
he bumped into his big fur mother 
and she took her little fur child 
home in her arms

I sat there with my little child on my lap, wanting to hold her in my arms, willing her small again. It hit me like a bolt of thunder that I can't put the brakes on any of this. Not on her, not on me, not on the rushing roar of life that keeps tumbling us forward.

So we swim. And try to remember as much of the sweetness as we can and rely on the hope that there is more sweetness to come.