Spring and Sometimes I Cry
Picture it, two chubby, chocolate women holding hands as they walk out of an office building in downtown northeast DC. They favor each other and appear to be in their own world, laughing and blissfully smiling at one another. The older one spots a flower guy across the street from her building selling sterling roses, half a dozen for three bucks. She always finds three bucks to buy lavender-hued roses for her girl. The two women seem to own the street. Everything about their day is discussed on their walk.
Even the worst of days is made virtuous, on these walks because on these walks where the two women hold hands, laugh blissfully and listen to each other's day... They had each other.
They nod at the community around them on the journey to their car. From the kind man, just getting off from work, the flower vendor guy to the sweet lady who owns the snack stand they pass everyday. They all bared witness to something special. Sometimes I wish I could find them and ask them if they remember us on our walks. I wonder what they thought of us.
This is my happy place. The place I visit almost everyday since she passed. It's one of the few reasons I was able to smile in the beginning. This memory sustains me because it sums up our relationship to this day.
Like us holding hands was how connected I still feel to her even today. We were so close and everyone knew it, even strangers. She would do anything in her power to make me happy, she knew it wouldn't take much to show me how much she loved me.
Even while it was happening, I could sense that every one of those days were priceless. Moments that would sustain me and give me peace for the rest of my life.
I wonder if she knew?
I committed a personal cardinal sin. I broke out into tears in front of my six year old. I was simply reading her third term progress report to her out loud and simultaneously remembering where she was academically at the beginning of the year. My baby couldn't even write her name, now she flies through her homework accurately and efficiently. I glanced at her and the tears swelled up in my eyes and fell down my cheek. She is my pride and joy. Her hardships and accomplishments are mine. So sometimes when the joy I feel inside about her or him, fills up in me, some may spill out through my eyes. At least that's what I told her as she gently wiped away my joy streams.
To her tears still only mean something is wrong, 'Mommy must be sad or mad or disappointed.' I don't think words have been written to express how much I adore her. I doubt there ever will be because I am still discovering the depths.
Sometimes I cry because I know she will experience awful things in this world, some I may not even be around for and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. I am tough on her because of it.
When I was her age I remember wrestling my Mama. I compare it to the kind of play sparing lion cubs do with their parents. I didn't understand why she never let me win, until one day I 'won' and she gave me this look like "well played."
The most important thing I'm learning about parenthood is that everything I do, every decision I make is helping shape and form them into what they will eventually become, either good or bad the affect I have on them will stay with them forever.
Even the worst of days is made virtuous, on these walks because on these walks where the two women hold hands, laugh blissfully and listen to each other's day... They had each other.
They nod at the community around them on the journey to their car. From the kind man, just getting off from work, the flower vendor guy to the sweet lady who owns the snack stand they pass everyday. They all bared witness to something special. Sometimes I wish I could find them and ask them if they remember us on our walks. I wonder what they thought of us.
This is my happy place. The place I visit almost everyday since she passed. It's one of the few reasons I was able to smile in the beginning. This memory sustains me because it sums up our relationship to this day.
Like us holding hands was how connected I still feel to her even today. We were so close and everyone knew it, even strangers. She would do anything in her power to make me happy, she knew it wouldn't take much to show me how much she loved me.
Even while it was happening, I could sense that every one of those days were priceless. Moments that would sustain me and give me peace for the rest of my life.
I wonder if she knew?
I committed a personal cardinal sin. I broke out into tears in front of my six year old. I was simply reading her third term progress report to her out loud and simultaneously remembering where she was academically at the beginning of the year. My baby couldn't even write her name, now she flies through her homework accurately and efficiently. I glanced at her and the tears swelled up in my eyes and fell down my cheek. She is my pride and joy. Her hardships and accomplishments are mine. So sometimes when the joy I feel inside about her or him, fills up in me, some may spill out through my eyes. At least that's what I told her as she gently wiped away my joy streams.
To her tears still only mean something is wrong, 'Mommy must be sad or mad or disappointed.' I don't think words have been written to express how much I adore her. I doubt there ever will be because I am still discovering the depths.
Sometimes I cry because I know she will experience awful things in this world, some I may not even be around for and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. I am tough on her because of it.
When I was her age I remember wrestling my Mama. I compare it to the kind of play sparing lion cubs do with their parents. I didn't understand why she never let me win, until one day I 'won' and she gave me this look like "well played."
The most important thing I'm learning about parenthood is that everything I do, every decision I make is helping shape and form them into what they will eventually become, either good or bad the affect I have on them will stay with them forever.
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