Tonight, as I lingered on the sofa after the show** Patience and Persistence put on, Persistence returned, still in her costume, and climbed up next to me.
She curled up in my right arm, and sat, still and quiet. More still and quiet than she ever is, really, even when sleeping---where she is as active as she is when awake: tossing, turning, flipping, making noise.
We sat that way for a while, neither of us in any hurry to go or do.
Patience played a room away, probably relieved to be on her own for a bit, able to run everything just as she likes it, without any interference.
And so we sat, Persistence and I, curled alongside one another on the sofa, breathing slowly and deeply, enjoying the simple presence of the other...appreciating a moment with no testing, no confirming, no pushing or pulling.
I felt her shoulder blades pressing against my arm, bony yet solid...and I thought how like a child she has become over the last six months. I rubbed her legs, long and skinny, yet strong and able to leap a dog bed in a single bound.
I caressed her cheek, round and soft.
And I wondered how it must be to live as she does, able to make out only a little of a world she so desperately needs to make sense of, but still knowing so much more than even three months ago. I wondered how it must be to live poised between babyhood and childhood, knowing so clearly what she wants to do but frustrated by so many limitations...and surrounded by those so much more capable, so far, than she is, yet.
In a rush I understood. I understood exactly how it feels to know how far you've come but how far you've got to go. I understood how it feels to be so focused on what you want to be able to do that you forget how much you can do, and do. I understood how it feels to be torn among roles and places in life.
I hugged her body---so little still yet so big already---a little tighter for a second.
Without a word, she knew. She understood and felt my empathy.
A second later, she reached up and patted my cheek then looped her little arms around my neck, and said, "My mommy."
We sat that way, together---still and quiet on the sofa, silent in our room, soft sounds of Patience's creative play drifting in from the other room---for a while longer, neither of us in any hurry to go and do.
* Title from a line in the poem April by William Carlos Williams.
** A real show, like a little play. They love to do this. It's mostly what I might call lyrical dance or interpretative dance, rather than something off the pages of Coward or Moliere, but entertaining nonetheless. I just wanted to be clear that show wasn't a euphemism for naughtiness, as might be assumed from my posts recently.
Copyright 2007 Julie Pippert
Also blogging at:
Using My Words
Julie Pippert REVIEWS: Get a real opinion about BOOKS, MUSIC and MORE
Julie Pippert RECOMMENDS: A real opinion about HELPFUL and TIME-SAVING products
Moms Speak Up: Talking about the environment, dangerous imports, health care, food safety, media and marketing, education, politics and many other hot topics of concern.
She curled up in my right arm, and sat, still and quiet. More still and quiet than she ever is, really, even when sleeping---where she is as active as she is when awake: tossing, turning, flipping, making noise.
We sat that way for a while, neither of us in any hurry to go or do.
Patience played a room away, probably relieved to be on her own for a bit, able to run everything just as she likes it, without any interference.
And so we sat, Persistence and I, curled alongside one another on the sofa, breathing slowly and deeply, enjoying the simple presence of the other...appreciating a moment with no testing, no confirming, no pushing or pulling.
I felt her shoulder blades pressing against my arm, bony yet solid...and I thought how like a child she has become over the last six months. I rubbed her legs, long and skinny, yet strong and able to leap a dog bed in a single bound.
I caressed her cheek, round and soft.
And I wondered how it must be to live as she does, able to make out only a little of a world she so desperately needs to make sense of, but still knowing so much more than even three months ago. I wondered how it must be to live poised between babyhood and childhood, knowing so clearly what she wants to do but frustrated by so many limitations...and surrounded by those so much more capable, so far, than she is, yet.
In a rush I understood. I understood exactly how it feels to know how far you've come but how far you've got to go. I understood how it feels to be so focused on what you want to be able to do that you forget how much you can do, and do. I understood how it feels to be torn among roles and places in life.
I hugged her body---so little still yet so big already---a little tighter for a second.
Without a word, she knew. She understood and felt my empathy.
A second later, she reached up and patted my cheek then looped her little arms around my neck, and said, "My mommy."
We sat that way, together---still and quiet on the sofa, silent in our room, soft sounds of Patience's creative play drifting in from the other room---for a while longer, neither of us in any hurry to go and do.
* Title from a line in the poem April by William Carlos Williams.
** A real show, like a little play. They love to do this. It's mostly what I might call lyrical dance or interpretative dance, rather than something off the pages of Coward or Moliere, but entertaining nonetheless. I just wanted to be clear that show wasn't a euphemism for naughtiness, as might be assumed from my posts recently.
Copyright 2007 Julie Pippert
Also blogging at:
Using My Words
Julie Pippert REVIEWS: Get a real opinion about BOOKS, MUSIC and MORE
Julie Pippert RECOMMENDS: A real opinion about HELPFUL and TIME-SAVING products
Moms Speak Up: Talking about the environment, dangerous imports, health care, food safety, media and marketing, education, politics and many other hot topics of concern.
Comments
***
Flutter, I wish for you to have what you wish for. :)
***
Sage, well as you read below...we have been struggling mightily. In fact, the poem I quoted is actually about being very stormy. It's a pretty brilliant poem (of course...it's Williams) and it tickled me a bit to find the perfect line for this quiet feeling alongside the storms of late, and the below post. If that makes any sense.
Feel free to call me a Liberal Arts Literary Geek anytime. :)
(And, hey. Can I call you a Liberal Arts Literary Geek, too?)
Heidi
My daughter has similar moments, although I don't think they're as rare as Persistence's (she seems to be a little more towards Patience's temperament). They usually come on Saturday and Sunday mornings before she's fully woken up and she just wedges herself into my side and leans there.
I love the quiet places in between...
I love those moments we connect.
Thanks so much for sharing that moment.
I have one the same age poised between baby and child, leaning ever closer to the child side. There is nothing like that chubby arm around your neck!
Emily
I'm so glad you got a chance to cherish it.
These make all the other nonsense worth it!
Beautiful post! :)
As much as I want my Little Mister to stay, well, little...I sure can't wait to hear him call me mommy. :)