Yesterday was a rainy day. When I picked Eden up after work we had to use my big, oversized, sky-blue umbrella to keep us dry from Grandma's front door to the car at the end of the driveway. As soon as we stepped off the porch Eden's eyes lit up as she became still, listening to the sound of the raindrops falling on the umbrella. She sat, perched on my arm, eyes looking up into the umbrella's ribbing, fully aware and alive in the moment, drinking it all in.
The evening light was almost sparkly through the raindrops, and the late afternoon sun shining through the blue umbrella cast a pretty blue cast on Eden's skin, turning her eyes deep blue-green. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment and it was just the two of us, underneath the umbrella, watching in wonderment (her, the rain; and I, her).
It reminded me of another cloudy day a little more than a year ago. The cool misty air. The porcelain skin. The newness, the wonderment.
The little tug on my heart that says, "I love you, Eden."
Later that evening, Eden, Daddy and I were all doing dishes together. Impromptu. Daddy was washing, Eden was next to him, "rinsing," and standing on her chair, and I was on the other end, drying and putting away. I glanced down and saw her little stocking feet every time she'd reach up on her tippy-toes for a dish, or to "help" Daddy. Those tiny little stocking feet, so eager to help, so eager to be involved.
The little tug on my heart said, "She's growing! Oh! She's growing up so fast!"
When Nate and I finally crawled into bed next to her she reached out for me and started to nurse. Half asleep still, she resembled baby-Eden more than toddler-Eden. Her chubby little hands, folded at the wrist, lay gently on either side of my breast, occasionally going pat-pat-pat. Her hair, slightly damp, was curled up in a million curls all over her little blonde head. And her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she quickly drifted back to sleep.
And my heart was nearly bursting, so in love with my baby.
1 comment:
"A mother's love." It's magical, isn't it? I love the image of you two under the umbrella. It made me think of how I often must slow down or even stop, to allow Michael to experience the things that capture his attention. Things we take for granted, but are new and mysterious to them.
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