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 downI 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.
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
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.