She's in there, the dark espresso crib and I can hear her breathe her small little breaths. At a distance, these breaths make me wonder whether or not she's really breathing but I can hear her when I'm this close. I wouldn't dare place a hand on her, in fear of waking her up, but I can imagine her warmth and doughy heaviness, sweating in my arms.
I think that if I'm near her maybe some of her peace, her calmness, her ever emanating sweetness would somehow rise from her like a breeze and fall gently on me. I would inhale and she would seep into my pores and maybe it would make me smile widely, eyes crinkled, when I see the faces of my loved ones. Or maybe I would begin to kick my feet and wave my arms at the sight of good food or green grass. Maybe I'd grin and catch my breath when a heavy wind blows my hair in my eyes and catches me by surprise.
And maybe, hopefully, I would finally beam with a pride that is untainted by judgement when I stand up on my own or climb a difficult stair or begin to clap my hands.
I just love your blog. I feel these exact same things with Scarlett, but all I say is, "She's just so sweet!" Ha. You do such a great job putting things in to words! Loved this.
ReplyDeleteAlso, you make me want to take a creative writing class. I loved writing essays in English in high school and used to love to write poetry and stories when I was younger. Now I don't, but your writing inspires me!! You're one of my favourite people. I find you so interesting!
Oh Lindsay, you're so kind. Sometimes I feel silly writing but then I can't help myself. I have to. I think you should totally start writing again. I'd love to read what you write. We could start a writing club!! And I love your blog posts. They're funny and sweet and honest. They're uplifting.
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting.