February 21, 2014

His hair smelled like the back yard.

His hair smelled like the back yard. And he curled up so still in my arms, the recliner squeaking with every rock but I kept on, thinking any moment he'd jump up and be off. Legs hanging over the sides but he stayed. Flashess of feelings of when he was new, when he was two, and then they would slip from my reach. Holograms. Flickers of a distant memory and his lashes hit my cheek, I caught him looking up at me and back down again.

10 comments:

  1. Ugh. You're killing me. Just beautiful.
    I love these moment. Cherish them. Want to squeeze out every last drop of them while I still can.
    Gorgeous post!

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  2. That's what my oldest does to me. It's nice to know that he still needs his mama, that he hasn't outgrown that childlike need, even though he's getting so big.

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  3. My heart swelled reading this, and a feeling of bittersweetness overcame me. This is the thing motherhood is made of, always moving forward, sometimes looking back.

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  4. Every word, yes, and every word Nell said too...just breathtaking. How blessed are we to be mamas?!

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  5. I love your little paragraphs that say a mountain.

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  6. We had a red recliner that got battered from overuse. I'd sit there while my youngest napped. I wrote in that chair, and when he woke up he dragged his sleepy self into my lap. We both emerged from our silent places slowly. Saying nothing. Just rocking. Loving. Easing ourselves back into noise.

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  7. yes. exactly this. you capture these moments so perfectly. never stop.

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  8. Tears, such a precious fleeting moment.

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