Little Feet

I’m staying at my dear friends’ flat in NY. They’re on the west coast so in their absence, I get to take particular note of the beautiful family photos that grace their book lined walls. They are a testament to the fact that this is a family who has cherished one another, celebrated all things, cared deeply for eachother’s souls as life has changed around them. The comfortable décor has conversation inviting places to plop in, cozy chairs in which to curl up and read. The goodness nurtured in their home extends to the world around them in large and small ways. They perform small kindnesses on a regular basis and are exceedingly generous to their pals. I know, I’m one of them.

All this has put me in a family frame of mind. Lying in the guest room bed I’m awakened most mornings by the patter of little feet running back and forth on the floor in the flat above. That soundtrack inspires a movie that plays in my mind’s eye. I see him (her?) on the imperative mission to, perhaps, chase the cat or bolt anew to retrieve his favorite blankie. I feel the glee of discovery in his lively gate and envy his parents in this stage of their lives, when their child’s containable adventures for the most part, succeed. When they delight in their child’s explorations at the beach. I mean really, is there anything better than watching your young child play at the water’s edge? I hope they are soaking up the balm of this chapter when they as parents can literally see around corners for their child, still be a shield to harsh realities whilst he roams with confidence fueled by innocence through his uninterrupted Universe.

My own son’s footsteps are out in the world now…his adventures are not contained. I cannot see around corners for him. Its terrifying. Thrilling too when his successes both big and small come. I again thank all that is holy to have been granted the supreme privilege of being a Mom. The doctors lie when they tell you the umbilical chord was cut. It never was, never will be.

Blue Pearl