Finn came into the attic this morning, backlit by white morning fog. He held gumdrops in his hand, like little jewels. “Look what the fairy brought!” He’d lost another tooth. I lifted the covers and his thin frail body snuck under them with the cold air. He settled under the warm sheets and played with my hair, his handful of freckles and his golden strands so close I could kiss them. He stopped and stretched, then smiled and held his arms against his chest and squeaked.
“Why are you so happy?” I asked him.
“Because I love you so much,” he said.
He will be seven soon. These few years of wide eyed wonder and tender cuddling will soon disappear. These moments are as rare as a unicorn. I want to harness and clutch, but I know I must hold them loosely as I am wracked with tingling magic.
Oliver is playing by himself. He says with w’s for r’s, “Two cups of sugar…careful don’t drop it…ok good job.” I ask him if he is talking to himself or to an imaginary friend. He looks up at me with his chocolate bird eyes, embarrassed to find me listening in, and says “I’m talking to a lobster in the ocean.”
Harry is running around covered in frosting, holding a toilet paper roll over one of his hands and yelling, “Pew pew pew pew!” I yell to him, “Harry!” and he turns to me slowly, looks at me with eyebrows raised, and lifts the toilet paper roll….”PEW!”
When I was gone for the weekend Finn made a replica of our old house with paper and tape. He even made the tree house in the back yard and the kiddie pool (a tiny glass full of water). He said, “I made this for you because I know you miss it sometimes.”
I know it’s a simple concept, but I am still astounded by the fact that from nothing came this boy. He was not there, and then he was. He is here, loving me like a puppy…expectant and brimming. He cares for me, sometimes even more than I know how to care for him. Out of the yearning notes of my longing for a child came this perfect aria of three boys.
Beau and I have created our own magic. We brought life into our world. Little people, our friends. They’re like sprites, filling every corner of the house with remnants of their passing, feathers in the nest. And with them we learn to give our hearts and swell our souls.
So often I take it all for granted. I want autonomy, purpose. I want time and rest and obedience. There is a time for all of that. There is. But right now I am allowing their glow to seep into me. To be sprinkled with their sugar.
To cherish their plump, rosy, youth like fairy gumdrops in my hand.
*****************************I don’t have any pictures to go with this post. But I found this old collage today I can’t even remember making. It must be a year old. Did I ever post it? I can’t remember. I’m so glad I have a blog so I can open up the past like envelopes tossed in the scatter of memorabilia. This post will be another tucked away for me to find.