No matter the number of children you deliver, how can it be that each is your favorite, for reasons as many and varied as the things that shade their differences? Intense and deep affection, seemingly dulled by the dailiness of living, is fierce lion lying in wait, patient and certain.
You never see it coming.
When it springs, it grabs you by the throat and has its way with you. You're completely at its mercy.
Love is a king.
You never see it coming but don't you always know it's right there?
* * * * * * *
It's too quiet today. The silence screams for notice, and I do, because this silence means something. He's home.
Home is where his heart is, home is where his friends are, home is his comforts and familiarities, home is where they speak a language he understands.
Home is not with me.
This is my son, my always-baby by virtue of birth's order, the thing he didn't ask for but will always be.
He's done a hard thing without complaint, believing a future purpose that didn't feel true in the present. Well done, we tell him. Well done, and he knows we mean it.
He's earned a pride that swells my chest and stings my heart the good way, and I sing this lovesong to him as best I can and he hears it as best he can.
But he won't be able fully to hear it until he sits where I sit, a lifetime from now.
This one is light and life, kinetic energy, noise maker. He thrives on laughter, he's friend to all, his concern is for others, he can't hold a grudge. He has no idea the rippling of his super powers, they're boundless; which is yet another of his super powers.
Six weeks ago, he came with a plan. There were many things he couldn't control so that plan was lifeline, full of things that mattered to him. It had a beginning, and more important an end, and it compassed his way til he was done.
There was one thing in the plan, though, that he couldn't control: the weather. Did he really put weather in the plan? THAT was ridiculous.
Snow in October? A rarity, even here. Last year it was minimal and didn't arrive until later, but that didn't matter to him. He had hope. And, I understand it, I do, because I share this fizzy delight in snow's fall–enchanting, frozen pixie dust as far as I'm concerned, likely my adoration shaped by its scant in my life.
And then, wouldn't you know it–the weather inched toward winter and at the beginning of the week snow, indeed, was forecast.
Oh, ye of little hope, all hail the one with great hope!
…in a thing that mattered to a boy…
But timing is everything and he was already flying above the snow when it finally showed up below.
And what normally thrills me to the center of who I am, that which sends my spirit dancing and happy, this morning it is only reminder that he missed his wish by inches and hours.
Love is lamb and lion, king of beasts, conquerer.
First snow…the beautiful letdown.