A Normal Day
“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”
― Mary Jean Irion
it doesn’t matter how tall and lean you get. you are still my baby. you are the baby that i dreamt of long before you were you. you are the one who slept on my heart that first year as i walked up and down the hills for hours each day. when i became pregnant with your little sister, i worried that you might never forgive me for offering that space to another baby. thank goodness you fell for her instantly. the love that once watered my soul now rained down on her. and she grew heartily because of it. but i missed it. i missed our nearness. years passed and along came your baby brother. he reminds me of you not just in the way he looks but in the way he looks at me. the way he nourishes my soul. he now resides over my heart. i think you have forgiven me. i believe that you understand that my heart stretches just like your arms and legs. it expands to make room for each and every one of my babies.
Photo by Heather Robinson Photography