I see your small body on the sheet covered gurney; blood staining your knee and your jeans.
Tears stain your cheeks and sweat has matted your hair to your head.
I want to remember how tiny you
were are and how things can happen and change in an instant.
I see you standing in front of the ginormous ride, both terrified and chomping at the bit to go.
You squeal, laugh, whoop and holler with hands raised. Joy radiating from your face.
I want to remember the reckless abandon with which you experienced this place; believe the magic without question.
I hear your sweet voice ask for the umpteenth time today, “Up-y, up-y, mommy. I snuggle you.”
I scoop you up onto my lap and we snuggle and sway; rock and hum.
I’m treasuring each of these moments deep in my mother’s heart. Storing them away for future use.
You’re so brave, so strong, so full of joy.
You laugh with out restraint, love without clause, and live without limits.
I want to remember these days when you’re too big to hold; to manly to snuggle; but hopefully you’ll never outgrow your compulsion to laugh, love and live to your heart’s content.
I’ve linked up with the tribe over at LisaJo’s place for Five Minute Friday. Today’s prompt was: Remember.
I’ve also linked up with Women Living Well