Door County August 2011
Last night after TT had shuffled off to her corner bedroom on the back of the cottage and Eva had been lowered into her playpen in the middle bedroom, Sam and I sat at the dining room table together. It was past his bedtime, but I had allowed him to stay up and watch me check my email if he could be quiet. I had pulled up my messages and he was playing with his Stackaroos on the table. The surf outside beat a calming rhythm and a light rain had just started to click on the open awning window in the kitchen. As I tapped on the keyboard responding to messages from customers and a few questions from my boss, Sam quietly showed me his creations. “Look what I made, Mommy. Look at this.” I would look and ask him what it was. A corn harvester. A super fast fishing boat. A monster shooer. I asked a few engaging questions about each one and then went back to my email while he built the next.
“Mommy, where’s the moon tonight? There’s no moon on the lake.”
I explained that the clouds blocked the moon. The night before we had crept outside in the dark after everyone else was asleep. We had wanted to take a picture to send to Uncle Ron. Full moon reflections on the water always remind me of him. Last night there was no moon. Just the soft surf sounds and a slight breeze through the windows.
Sam went back to building another creation and I watched him a few extra seconds. He was playing so quietly by himself, happy to have his Mommy next to him, content just to be by me. In that moment I felt such an astonishing and deep love for him. Something I don’t think I could ever describe.
Why don’t people ever write about this? These moments of such immense love, these moments when you look at your child and you cannot even believe you are this blessed, this lucky? Maybe I’ve read about moments close to this on Christina’s blog, but for the most part I don’t read much about it. Maybe it’s because it IS so indescribable… this love, this joy, this everything.
5 comments:
I totally got chills!!
:)
Wonderful post. I often feel this, as well. It's a hard thing to put into words, but it always takes my breath away when it hits me. I am glad everyone is enjoying your time at the lake!
Yes. I have read about it a few different places. However, I think these moments are so intense, but are also fleeting. I often want to hold on to them, so I linger and try not to breathe too deeply. I don't want to disrupt the awe. Then, when it is over, life simply goes on. That is why writing regularly is so important. Capturing the obscure is more likely to happen!
Excellent post!
I do have those moments. Often when the boys are asleep in their beds or when I look in the mirror at them happily chatting in their carseats. I'd like to write about them but I can't do the feelings justice with mere words. The best I can hope for is to hold those times in my heart, keeping them safe and close forever.
I know what you mean, Barb. It's like your eyes cloud with love and your heart expands and you don't even know if your body can hold it. Thank you for bringing light to this beautiful moment with Sammie! I'm so glad you experienced it. xoxoxoxo
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