Small corners

Last night I stumbled across a video of Immy that we recorded just after her 2nd birthday. I howled with laughter watching it - and then most unexpectedly, just ended up howling. Tears running in silent channels down my cheeks for about - oh, an HOUR. I'm not sure what prompted it, or why I needed it, but this is my theory.

Somewhere in my soul - all of our souls, maybe - there is a small, dark corner. In this corner, quietly tucked away and mostly forgotten, lie all of my dusty regrets, secret sorrows and unspoken fears. Sometimes that small corner needs to have the door opened, and a light switched on. Sometimes I need to take one or two of those neglected things off the shelf and spend some time looking at each one. Last night, it was time. Time lost, and spent, and never to be regained. Watching that video, I was struck by how time counts itself out in seconds, minutes, hours and then all of a sudden, without me even noticing - two whole years. The simultaneous miracle and heartbreak of how in two short years a baby can grow up, and away. I guess it's the away part that I have the hardest time with. And it got me thinking: did I pay enough attention to that smiling baby with the softest soft curls? Was I present enough, soaking in her voice and her chubby hands and her dimpled smile? I don't know. Deep down in my heart, I think so. I hope so.

As a mama, my job is to help her find her way along her path. To walk alongside her until, eventually, I'll fall back and she'll walk on ahead. I'm ready for it. But sometimes, I miss that small, warm body curled into mine. That freshly-bathed baby smell. The lisp in her speech and the wobbliness of her walk. The feeling of being everything to this small human being that so consumed our world.

She is already finding her way. With confidence, and excitement, and a spring in her step. And I'm grateful for moving forward, and all the promise that lies ahead.

But in that corner of my soul, there will always be that special once-in-a-while place: for looking back, and remembering, and for wishing- just for a moment - that I could reach my hands out and stop time dead in it's tracks.

To live in this world

 you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

- Mary Oliver


Millie Goodchild said…
My dear child I know how you feel - because that is what I feel about you. You must have no regrets about Immy - just look at the beautiful little girl that baby has transformed into. You are the most wonderful mom - and we are so proud of you and love the way you dedicate so much special quality time to our little angel's uobringing. She is so lucky to have you as her mama.
Melanie said…
Proving once again what a thoughtful mom you are. xx