I stood at the sink and watched the kids playing on the swing set through the kitchen window. Julia was pushing Oliver on the swing and he threw his head back, squealing with delight. “Touch the clouds, Oliver!” I heard her shout. I smiled; watching them play together and not fight made me feel lighter, calmer.
“This is so nice,” my father sighed, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar behind me. I turned to look at him, my hands still immersed in the warm, soapy water.
I gave him a quizzical look. “What is?”
He smiled, spread his arms out and looked around. “This,” he said, arms wide. “Being here. The house, the kids,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the back yard. “All of it.”
I shifted my gaze from him to the back yard again and watched my children in the late afternoon sunlight, their playful shrieks wafting across the lawn, through the screen and into the kitchen.
“Most days it is nice, eh?” I pulled the stopper from the sink, dried my hands on a tea towel and turned to face him. He nodded at me, then leaned over and plucked his Corona from the counter, condensation dropping from the bottom to form small circles on his pants. “Enjoy it,” he said, and took a quick swig. “It goes by so fast you won’t believe it.”
******
Her voice cut through the silence, the urgency in it jerking me out of the fantasy world I’d slid in to after going to bed. I folded the top corner of the page I was on and set the book on my nightstand, tossed back the covers and padded across the hall to her room. She was sprawled across her bed, her hair splayed wildly against the pillow, and when I slipped between her sheets next to her she rolled on to her side and pressed her back against my stomach.
I leaned into her and softly said her name; tucked stray hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you call me?”
She stirred. “No Mummy, I didn’t,” she murmured.
I kissed the top of her ear. “You did, sweetie. I heard you. Did you have a bad dream?”
She pulled away from me and reached for her Strawberry Shortcake doll, snuggling into it. “I didn’t call you, Mummy. I didn’t,” she mumbled into Strawberry’s face, a hint of annoyance lacing her words.
I stood in her doorway for a few minutes, watched the rise and fall of her shoulders before I turned away.
******
I snapped awake the next morning slick with sweat, my heart racing. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked at the blurry red numbers glowing softly from the nightstand. 7:16 am.
It’s okay, it was just a dream. The kids are fine. Julia’s fine, I assured myself, but I had stalked across the hall and into her bedroom before I could finish the thought. Her covers had been pushed back and the bed was empty; although I knew where she was, by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I was crying in short, jagged sobs.
“Julia,” I choked when I saw her sitting on the couch, watching cartoons.
She was alarmed. “Mummy, what’s wrong?” she asked, and when I sat down and folded her in to my chest she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear. “Its okay, Mummy, it’s over now,” she soothed, as though she too had seen my nightmare, and I buried my face into her hair and worked on swallowing my sobs.
“I had a bad dream about you,” I said when we parted. “Mummies have bad dreams too, you know.” I sniffled and wiped my eyes.
She gave me a knowing look. “But it’s okay now, right?”
I nodded and kissed the top of her forehead, caught a whiff of the sweet smell of her hair. I felt myself start to settle. “It is, love,” I breathed. “It’s okay now."
39 Comments, Comment or Ping
Beautiful. You move me each and every time you write.
June 2nd, 2008
It does go by so fast. Thank God our children give us these opportunities to drink them in, so we can stop and acknowledge this passage and our desire for it to stop, if momentarily.
June 2nd, 2008
that was sweet. but i require a dave fart story soon ok?
June 2nd, 2008
Very sweet. We are at a crossroads here. Husband may get a high paying job offer that would require us to move across the country. Money isn’t everything. I love that my kids are surrounded by family here. They’re surrounded by love. I don’t know how to put a price on that. Probably going to be one of the hardest choices we’ve ever had to make.
June 2nd, 2008
It does go by so quickly. I’ve had moments like that too, where I feel like I just need to see my daughter, hold her, and then everything will be back to normal. It makes no “logical” sense, but it feels better.
Beautiful post, just beautiful.
June 2nd, 2008
Beautiful writing. Gave me a few chills.
June 2nd, 2008
You made me cry again. The first story reminded me of 2 country songs. Forgive me, if you don’t listen to country music, but you need to listen to these. The first is Kenny Chesney’s ‘Don’t Blink’ and the second is ‘You’re Gonna Miss This’ by Trace Adkins. You’ll relate totally. I do.
June 2nd, 2008
Wonderful! They do give us moments to pause and realize just how much of a miracle this life is don’t they?
June 2nd, 2008
Now Clara wants to know what’s wrong with me. Beautiful writing chick!
June 2nd, 2008
kids will rip apart your insides without really trying.
your daughter is awesome.
June 2nd, 2008
i had one of those screaming, gasping, nightmares this weekend. wondering where my child was. awful. so irrational… but, so vivid.
June 2nd, 2008
love this post, as always.
June 2nd, 2008
How do you do it? Beautiful!
June 2nd, 2008
Oh she is a sweet little heart, isn’t she?
June 2nd, 2008
Oh I love this post too. *sob* You are such an amazing writer.
June 2nd, 2008
*hugs* to both you and Julia.
Doesn’t everything go by so fast that, looking back, you can’t believe it?
June 2nd, 2008
Love you and your beautiful, beautiful words.
xo
June 2nd, 2008
Oh, I’m crying. This is such a lovely post. I hear Axel cry all the time and, when I make it to his room, he’s deep in slumber. I can’t figure out which ones are sounds he makes in his sleep, and which ones are from my dreams in which he’s crying.
June 2nd, 2008
I’ve been having wild, crazy dreams lately. It’s so hard to shake off the unreality in the morning, isn’t it? As always, beautifully written. The Corona rings on his pants was magic.
June 2nd, 2008
Oh, these Universal things, it could have been me and my daughter, it could have been her smell. So lovely the way you tell it!
June 2nd, 2008
I love those moments of grateful, heightened awareness…
You need to write a book.
June 2nd, 2008
The time does go by so quickly. I can’t believe my babies are grown women and there are times when I wish I could go back when they needed me in the way they don’t anymore. They still need me, but it’s not the same. I’m proud of the women they are and I can still see the little girls inside peeking out of their eyes. I see it when they throw their heads back and laugh.
June 2nd, 2008
Ah, dude.
I can’t read you when I’m PMSing.
*wipes tears away*
June 2nd, 2008
You know that part in Our Town? The part where Emily comes back to relive an ordinary day, and just seeing her mother getting breakfast ready is too much for her, the beauty of the mundane is just too sublime?
And she asks something like “does anyone realize while they are living it just how wonderful life is?”
And the Stage Manager says “maybe the poets and the saints”?
I’d like to add “…and MamaTulip.”
June 2nd, 2008
You know, my friend, I’ve had this moment with Ali. She’s so grown up at 6 and she’s comforted me on many occasions. Just like I did with my own mom when I was a kid.
Please post updated pics of them soon, either here or on the Board. Our kids are growing up so fast!
June 2nd, 2008
Those years go by so fast and your post reminds me of “way back when.” But I spent last Saturday at a spinning event at a winery with my 39 year old daughter and her family. It was as lovely and memorable as your post. Grab each of those moments with your children but don’t be sad that they will pass. New ones will continue to take their place. And each is precious.
June 2nd, 2008
oh babe. sometimes you reach in and pull out the words i can’t seem to free from my skull.
June 3rd, 2008
Hug x
June 3rd, 2008
You get me every time, sneaky one. Every. Single. Time.
-wipes tears-
♥
June 3rd, 2008
Babe.
There is nothing like that feeling when you are scared FOR one of your children. How sweet she comforted you.
June 3rd, 2008
I remember when Brendan was born, and everyone would tell me to “enjoy it because it goes so quickly.”
He will be in third grade this September. It does so quickly! :(
Those were sweet postings.
June 3rd, 2008
Powerful writing as usual. I hate those dreams. As my husband soothes me after one he always say’s it’s our deepest, darkest fear firing off in our brains and not real. Doesn’t help though at that moment.
All my love,
a.
June 3rd, 2008
It goes quickly, but as your dad demonstrated, you never stop enjoying the company of your kids. No matter what age and stage they hit, you’ll find much to cherish and savor.
June 3rd, 2008
Oh wow. I was right there in the moment. What a way to pull me back out of holiday mode. I’m going to go give my kids a hug now!
June 3rd, 2008
Oh. What a trio. Gah, you got me right there, dammit. but lovely. It will be awfully weird the day Pumpkinpie climbs out of bed and it’s not to pad down the hall to lay her head on half my pillow, as she has just now started doing.
June 6th, 2008
My heart is in my throat….
June 6th, 2008
It does. Next thing you know, they’re 11 and asking you to NOT come on the end of year field trip with them. :(
June 8th, 2008
I have tears in my eyes – your writing is so evocative – just beautiful…
June 9th, 2008
I know those dreams.
They aren’t fun.
Your post was beautifully written, friend.
I miss you Tulip.
So much…
June 9th, 2008
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