The other day (well, at least it seemed like the other day in the angry way time is passing — almost like a recently broken buck whose reins were just ripped out of my hands), I was writing out the ad for your senior year book. I was thinking of how clever I am. Being a writer. And typed out ‘to the moon and back.’ Like all mums who think they have that unique and special memory bond. But then that book line started being quoted EVERYWHERE and I thought, “well hell.” BUT. Then. I realized. It doesn’t really matter, does it? The uniqueness of our lives? We all live. We breathe. We love our babies. We read them books. And, after it all, when we are suddenly ushering them away into their next stage, if we all quote the same book? Who gives a damn.
Then the other parts. All of us mums. We all did the feedings. The hand-wringings. The up-late-at-night pacings when you just wouldn’t go the fuck to sleep. Bottle warmings or breast barings. Rocking in the chairs while we prayed for your (and our) peace. That was WAY before we had to face the first hand off to a sitter. A preschool teacher. A kindergarten class. WAY before time took on its own character in our own life play. As the villain.
Even back then we were reading those Facebook posts, “Where does the time go?” From the mums who were where we are now. Thinking: “Poor saps. Don’t they have a life?” Well. They did. Just like I do now. But. Babies grow up. Start school. Launch into their lives. And from your arms. Oh those arms. So empty. So suddenly. And that’s how it is supposed to be.
I know this. I feel it. I am happy to see her go. Live, Breathe. Love. Oh but the bittersweet symphony that lies just beneath. In the feelings. The gut. The ache. It’s there too. The pushing and pulling that I felt even in those dark nights way back then. When she wouldn’t just go the fuck to sleep. Even then. As much as my body ached and my soul cried for rest. I would find myself looking at her. At her beautiful and finally peaceful face. Lashes curled. Baby breath barely audible over the sound of my want for sleep. As I slipped her quietly into her crib. Even then. My arms ached. Almost as if I knew then what is NOW.
Baby bird fly. I know the nest is warm. But it will be here. If ever you need a place to roost. But for now… FLY.
TODAY’S THEME SONG: And I wish you all the love in the world. But most of all, I wish it from myself. Fleetwood Mac.
Thank you…funny how we all seem to ache the same way as we let them FLY😭❤️