Monday, February 7, 2011

What I needed most...

Image by Christopher David Ryan

Today was a regular day. Not too much going on. But for some reason, as the day wore on, my own insecurities, anxieties, and other emotional dredge threatened to take me under.

I stood under the hot water for a long time tonight. I wondered when I would ever get my painful childhood out from under me. I wondered how much of that childhood taints my children's every day.

I wondered where the time has gone. Matthew, in spite of being so big, still was incredibly emotional about something seemingly meaningless this afternoon. My big boy, who often scurries from me when I try to hug him, let me hold him today when he cried. I wonder how often he needs my arms for comfort, and I don't offer them, because he scurries, because he is so big.

Because our timing is off. When I offer, he doesn't need. When he needs, I don't offer.

I know he is asleep now. My ever growing boy, who will too soon be too big for his bed. He is already too big for me to fold into my arms and hold him completely. The pages of his childhood are flying rapidly...Am I missing it?

I put on my pajamas and shuffled out of my bedroom to a final kiss goodnight sweep for three beautiful boys. I was welcomed with the sight on Andrew, asleep on the couch. When I gently rustled him ( I cannot even begin to think of carrying him anymore) he made a face that took me back to when he was a infant, sleeping in my arms. I walked him back to his room, tucked him in, gave him another kiss goodnight.

Joshua started talking in his sleep. Exclamations that only my little Buzz Lightyear would utter. Drunk in his sleep, he smiled. I walked over to my littlest boy. His small little hand found the crook of my neck and pulled me closer to him.

"I love you so much," he said, words slurred with sleep.

"I love you too," I whispered. "Have good dreams," I said.

"I wish I could fly," he sighed, eyelids so heavy.

Oh, little one. I wish you could.

I wish you could fly to me when my arms miss you the most. When I am with other peoples' children. When I should be with you, holding you close. Trying to hold on to you as you are right now.

I wish you could fly to me, as you did tonight, with your sweet voice, your inviting little arms, to save me from myself.

"I always miss you," he said. His sleep, breaking down whatever restrictions a three year old could have; his heart speaking the truth within it.

My heart broke. I always wonder if I am doing the right thing; working outside the home. In the lowest moments, I fantasize about how clean and organized my house would be. What the wondrously nutritious and inviting meals I would make for my family. That fantasy ends rather quickly during the summer months, when I am home, having fun, being lazy with my boys.

Nonetheless, I wonder how badly I am messing up when I hear things like this.

In the same breathe, I hear, "I love you so much Mommy," sleepily sighed. He is already far into the dreamland he is creating behind closed eyes.

It is exactly what I needed tonight. A reminder that in spite of all the bad, I have these three shining rays of light, that are surely guiding me out of darkness.


  1. This made me a little goopy. My oldest is too big for hugs, and scurries away, too. It makes me hold on even tighter to my little one--I keep wondering, when will both of them be out of reach.

    I completely understand.

  2. Ok, full blown bawling at 6:08 a.m. when I'm supposed to be at the gym or waking up Ben and doing neither.


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