Unbelievables

Her artwork is on our refrigerator. Tonight when I was rocking her I watched her little fingers touching her blanket for comfort, just like my little sister and I used to do. She hides food behind her in her high chair — I used to do this, too. And she looks to me in pain, in frustration, in laughter, with a question. There's a little crinkle above her nose, and another one between her eyes, when she looks at me like I'm being unreasonable. These will be the lines that her annoyance with her mother gave her. She wakes up crying and I rock her back to sleep...and somehow it works. What?? I get yummy pleasure packing her go-away bag with all of the snuggly, home-smelling necessities that will bring her comfort in almost any moment. And she hums when she's eating something she loves, like fish sticks, or sweet potato fries, or peanut butter crackers, or hummus. She already has big joys, strong anger, sweetness, and a way of being quiet and pensive and watchful. All of this in 14 months.

I am still in awe. I mean, really... I live with this child. I wash and fold her clothes, I cook her food, I sing and dance with her, I gently argue with her, I multi-task with her standing up and holding on to my pants and sticking her head between my knees. I do these everyday things with my little child, and all the while, never abating, I am in awe. I still look at my college students and think, I was just here. Where you are. Wondering what grown-up life would be like. Not having any idea that I would be so blessed to play on a big, big bed with a dear partner and a wee child who is both of us and so very much her own.

There is a presence that hovers above and looks down and says, "See? I told you it would be quite beautiful one day." Much of the beauty is in the not-quite-understanding how it all came to be. I thank morning practice for helping me to slow down time enough to see it that way.