I’ve been wanting to write about all the good things in my this past week, but my mind’s been in a vice grip, focusing on these pieces, focusing on the work that I must do.
Today, when I stumbled out of bed, dizzy from the dry heat of our room, and aching from the awkward pillow angles and small kicks to the rib that comes with sharing a bed with Bean, and when I sat down at the computer all I wanted to do was exalt the sun. I’m ready for spring, and though I learned last year that spring here comes in April, not March, longer days are coming now.
Fog fills the valley below the house, and the light is bright and golden.
Yesterday I strapped on a pair of snowshoes, and with Bean on my shoulders, we climbed through drifts to the top of our wooded hill, where the fort we’d made together in summer, had become shelter for small animals, with many sets of tracks converging there. Bean looked at a larger set of tracks and said, “Bunny tracks!â€
“Are you sure,†I said laughing at his sweet certainty. “They could be squirrel tracks.â€
“No, der bunny tracks. Dat squirrel tracks,†he said pointing earnestly to a smaller set of tracks leading right to the base of a tree.
Where did he possibly learn to make a conjecture like that? He’s grown an entire inch this month. Really. And he’s becoming such a wonder of a little kid. So full of ideas, and so affectionate. Now anything he likes, he showers with kisses: the penguin picture in the magazine? “Hug!†he says, then reaches out to wrap it in his arms, kissing the picture softly.
It’s been a week of happiness, which almost surprised me. February has sucked so much out of us, winter has, responsibility has, stress has, that it felt almost accidental to be in the place we worked so hard to be in. One of real pleasure. Making love in the afternoon and then watching the snow fall outside. Going on a date: fish & chips, a walk in the cold to a coffee shop under the stars, and then cuddled in the movie theater to watch Music & Lyrics (such a feel-good movie!) Hanging out with our kid, clearing paths around the house with the snow blower through three feet of snow.
But mostly, what’s marked the difference this week is we’ve given each other a little wider berth, more space to say things and not be immediately misinterpreted. More time to notice all the sweetness that still gets packed in: making pancakes, racing cars across the wide expanse of floor, DH’s new guitar which makes him grin every single time its mentioned, or sledding down the driveway. Little moments that I almost stopped noticing until there was time to breathe, to be more present and less hurt. Life is good.