Saturday, May 7, 2011
to be your mother.
Last year, on Mother's Day, I missed you.
I tried to think about everything I had to be grateful for. I had my own Mother, who acted as best friend, cheerleader and confident. I had my sweet Mother-in-law, who brought such goodness and warmth into my life. I had our families, our siblings, our friends. And, best of all, I had your Dad. I had our funny dogs, our sweet moments, our little life together; the life we'd spent 3 years creating. That life was much different from our lives now. We stayed up late on the weekends watching movies and eating bowls of ice cream. Saturdays were for sleeping in and having adventures. We went on dates. Lots of dates. Anytime we felt like it, really. We cooked together in the kitchen, taking our time and wasting away the evening. We went for walks as the sun was setting. We focused on each other. And it was a good life, a sweet life.
But still, I missed you.
I missed you most in the middle of the night as I tried to fall asleep. Sometimes I would wander into the living room to look out over the city, to watch the quiet dance of traffic lights pulsing in the distance. I watched life continuing, even in the darkness. It was in those silent moments spent all alone, that I felt your absence the most. Despite everything, despite all we had created together, I felt a dull ache inside, because we hadn't yet created you.
I didn't know who you were yet. I didn't know that you would have blue eyes and long fluffy hair the color of sunshine. I couldn't picture your round tummy, your tiny fingers and nose. I couldn't imagine your lips, the shape of them, or the way they would mirror my own. I couldn't see you yet, couldn't hear the sound of your laughter. I didn't know your name.
But still, I missed you.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day and tonight I'm looking out over the city in just the same way. I can see those same lights twinkling vibrantly, I feel the familiar pulse of another day coming to a close. I still love the quiet, love the time to think and I still come to this place to think of you. But now, everything is different than before.
Now, I know your name. Now, I can hear the sound of your little voice and watch your eyes light up as you laugh. I know the shape of your pudgy little body, I've studied the dimples on your hands and clipped the nails on your tiny toes. Now, I get to rock you to sleep in the darkness and wake up to your sunshine every morning.
Now, the ache is gone.
I am your Mother and you are my Evie.