In a world that is growing in its lack of compassion and love, I’m fighting to show my son what it means to hang on to those two very important things.
He holds a hand on my wrist as if to tell me, even long after he has fallen asleep: “Mommy, don’t go.”
I have rushed around the house in his last few waking minutes to make sure that all of the major things needing to be done, are done. Our outfits are ready for the next day. The requests from daycare await next to my work bag that has been filled with things that I will need for my day.
A spare bag raced to be packed on the whim luck will be on our side and we can sneak away to the beach, even if just for a brief moment.
I still have things I’d like to do. Unplug, unwind, relax. Skim a magazine. Watch one of the few shows I have saved for a later time. Read a book. Blog. There’s a list of things that I need to take care of too. Not just the wants. Things that help bring in extra money, but those things have to wait.
My baby boy is growing up. And I don’t want to miss it.
These nights when he wants me to snuggle up in bed won’t last forever.
The days when he wants me to build him endless sand castles, just so he can knock them down, will fade away.
The afternoons he wants to swing in Momma’s hammock will quiet, just as a hammock does when the motion stops.
The little voice asking for music, will change. It’ll grow deeper and it will be telling me to give him space.
His hand will no longer reach for me to hold me in place. That need for the protection, comfort and and warmth that comes from a mother.
So for right now, those things need to be done, can wait just a few extra minutes. I’ll get to them. My duties will be tended to, taken care of. Along the way, if luck is on my side, I’ll get a moment of quiet to work on mindfulness and take care of myself.
But for these 15 minutes, the world will pause.
I will lay in this tiny little bed, curled around my growing boy, listening to his soft snores. His hand on my wrist, face tucked against me. Letting me know that right now, he needs me.
Letting me know that I am his shelter.
This moment is fleeting. Just as the others.
But I will soak in every ticking second.
There are only so many we get.