Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Ever Fond


I don't understand much about a pre-schooler who makes such hard work of frowning at the camera and drinking in the world around him from a half-empty glass. I feel like there could be an easier way, or at least a different way, one that didn't spend us both up before lunchtime.

I don't know all there is to know about lashing out at the ones you love most, but I do know a little. I know more than I'd like to admit. I know that when a day doesn't fall my way I glare at my husband, standing right there, trying his best to balance the universe for me. I know that when my night is too short, I don't laugh along with my little clowns in the morning, even though I know it would be the best way to send them into their day. 

I know other things, too.

I know when this baby arrived with his bowl cut and the saddest eyes, he didn't know how to hold our hand and if we put our arm around him, he'd reach back and pluck it off like a tick.

I know he fought for all the love he lost in the only way a baby can, by refusing, for a very long time, to love us back.

I know the sound of a tiny heart breaking.

I know healing comes with scabs and sometimes it's hard for a child not to pick at them, tear them clean off.

I know God requires a lot of us sometimes, but I don't understand this kind of bravery.

I know that spinning love from loss and weaving a family out of remnants is work more cut out for a pioneer, and I know I've never had the mettle for the hard life.

But little hands can learn to hold on and so can weak hearts.

A mama and her little love can teach each other things while they wage war between everything they lost and this right here.

I still don't understand his fake frown when the shutter clicks, but I'm starting to see it as an inside joke. He tried not to be happy here for such a long time, and maybe it feels silly to conjure up the past once the light has cut through the middle.

Our baby has been in Ohio for a few days, just him and Charles and two of his biggest cheerleaders, his Grandma and Papaw.

I worried about how he would do by himself, without the security blanket of Calvin and Ruby. I thought he might be grief stricken without me. (See how far we've come?)

But he laughed the whole way there then asked if he could stay for "21 days". 
He wanted to sleep in my old bed because it smells like me, but when I called he was usually too busy pretending to be a kitty cat to talk.
He tucked himself into a life he sometimes thinks he was meant for - one where all of the attention is his.

Meanwhile, I missed my friend.
I also got a great many things done in record time and lazed around a bit.

He's not here, and my heart is every bit as fond.

The four of us took a long bike ride last night, longer than he could manage. We ate burritos in relative peace and I didn't miss the drama or the angst.

But I did miss my honey boy.

He cried his eyes out when we called last night, then wiped them dry and got back to his business, but it did my heart good to. All of it.

We've come full circle. We're lapping our old hurts, leaving some of them in the dust.
A break was needed for all of us and memorable for different reasons.

But it's time to bring home our Siley Pie, because we can't be a family without him


PS - Just got this amazing scarf from fashionABLE, hand-woven in Ethiopia. We had our 2nd Google chat last night and it's almost July, which means I'll be flying before I know it! Screeeeeeeam!!!!! I'm getting so excited for our #blogABLE trip.

PSS - Did I ever tell you about my travel-mates? Can't even wait to do this thing with them. They're so stylish and rad. See for yourself!