We sat at my desk, feet propped on two little crates filled with fabric. It was late, and we were laughing.
He laughed with abandon, making goofy faces and silly mistakes-on-purpose. And I laughed, too, but with a bit of sadness mixed in. A little bit of racing mind and hurry-up-remember-this-don’t-forget-this-moment-the-here-and-now kind of thoughts. He talked and I smiled, and answered his inexhaustible questions. We listened to Renee and Jeremy children’s songs, singing along, trying to harmonize and remember the words.
We looked up tutorials for one of my ideas for the Etsy shop, and I asked his opinion on fabric colors. “Do these look good together, Joel?” He rolled his eyes and said, “Look, Mom, I like cutting paper and stuff, but I don’t do colors.” And I smiled. He grinned and worked his origami skills on 3×3 inches of paper. I fastened them to cookie sticks and tweaked and rustled the pinwheels, double-checking. “They work, Mom. Relax.” It was late, and we were laughing.
We packaged the items and sealed the boxes and imagined how they would get to their destination. He was filled with wonderment, that these little things we were making would arrive in Spain and France. I pondered writing ‘Merci Beaucoup’ or ‘Gracias para el negociación’ on the labels. We grinned and decided against it- too risky with my rudimentary foreign language abilities. It was late, and we were laughing.
We sat at my desk, feet propped on two little crates filled with fabric. It was far too late, but there was ‘no school tomorrow’ and it was time. Time to just be there. Doing something simple, knowing that it won’t be long- that really, the time is already here- that he has far better things to do than spend time with me. And I know it’s normal. Healthy. But for right then, for those moments of simple being, it was enough.
And so I write to remember. And in this reflection, I realize something. This time of stepping back, slowing down, taking time off from school- though disappointing and not what I want- is the right thing. Because had it all gone ahead, had none of this happened- the diagnosis, the surgery, the pain, the fear, the recovery, –had none of it occurred, this moment with him wouldn’t have existed. I would have been too busy. I would have forfeited a gift. So once again, I tell myself, “It is the hard thing, but the right thing.” For many reasons. And this moment with my firstborn is one of them.
OOPS! I forgot– one last thing– the whole reason I began this post (you know, before I got all sentimental) :
I’m honored to be a sponsor on Ashley Ann’s blog, ‘Under the Sycamore.’ — Check out her post on the November sponsors here, and find a little info on how to receive a discount code for my Etsy shop… You’ll be glad you visited, because her blog is fanTASTic. Enjoy!
“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
-Howard Thurman, American author (1899-1981)