Saturday, May 11, 2013

Naps, Lettuce, and Other Reasons to Be Sentimental

As I rocked Morgan to sleep yesterday afternoon, her knees elbowed my bladder, her hands reached down my shirt through my arm holes, and in general she wiggled and squirmed until I felt her belly and shoulders go soft.  I continued rocking and smelling the top of her head.  Then I lifted her up and tucked her sleeping body in her bed.   

I probably do not need to rock her to sleep for her naps anymore; she goes to sleep at night with a back rub and kiss good night.  Morgan is now closer to be three than she is to being two.  There was a time not so long ago when naps were fraught and tearful events, and now it's a simple cuddle. (Well okay, more like a sumo wrestling cuddle.) When I hold her in my arms I imagine that in a year or two I won't remember the last time I rocked her to sleep.  And yes, it makes me wild with sentimentality.

After she was tucked in for her nap, I went downstairs and looked out my window and watched the snow melting, dripping off the porch roof.  It's May.  I have lettuce growing in the windowsills in my room.  My yard is still covered in 2 feet of snow. For a moment I longed for the landscape of my childhood in California--for the smell of honey dew flowers, cut grass, and outdoor swimming pools. I miss drives to Mooney's Grove, milkshakes at Mearles, and walking through downtown Visalia.  I know I'm just throwing around names, but I think we all have places from our childhood we wish could return to.

I don't know how to re-write the cliche of how fast time passes.  Each time I sat down to write this week, I got about thirty words in, then started hitting the delete button.  I feel a sudden streak of sentimentality and I'm uncomfortable when I see it reflected on the page.  I now think of Morgan as a child.  Not a baby,  almost not a toddler. She's busy playing with blocks, dressing her dolls, doing puzzles...but I can't help but imagine that she's going to wake up from a nap, walk downstairs, and find herself grown and looking out the window missing the landscape of her childhood.

Okay, enough sap--until next week anyways.  Happy Mother's Day.  

No comments:

Post a Comment