"what's this tree saying, mama?" his wide open eyes, glistening... "hmmm, let me listen. i gotta get closer. oh, yep, uh huh... this one, this one's saying, spring's really coming" "& this one?..."
i love my strolls with li'l man. we stop, frequently. he points something out, inquiring. or simply stops, "that's beautiful". i stop too. i notice. because i'm walking more slowly. because i'm walking with this one... this one, who pauses. & well, before he was by my side, i did notice, certain things- the buds as they begin to climb through the ground. the first patch of crocus. but not construction sites. not lots of things. increasingly i'm noticing myself. i'm noticing what's pulling me out of presence. what parts of me are anywhere but here. now.
well the other day, it happened, again.
i found myself in the midst of transition from present, receptive, meandering mama to "i'm wanting to get someplace and we're moving faster now because we 'need' to mama"-- and sometimes we really need to & sometimes we don't- and well this time it really didn't matter-- but my mind was convinced it did. my body was in go mode. i felt it. so i stopped (thinking, ok, i got this), got down to his level and let him know,
"okay, love. we got a train to catch, we're not on an exploring kinda walk anymore we're on a we gotta go somewhere now kinda walk, okay. capisce?"
"mama, what's capisce?" he asks almost everytime.
"you know love. do you understand? you get it? we gotta get moving & we're going to move fast, okay?"
so off we go
well, at first we were going & then it was just me. he pauses. something grabs his eye. i take a half glance back, coarsely juggle too many groceries & gently take his hand and we move.
the next thing catches his eye & i sweep right on in & pick him on up shuffling around afore*mentioned groceries in a way that is not conducive for carrying a 2 1/2 year old child nor rushing for anything, particularly a train (dare i confess, i think i huffed. okay, i know i huffed. i literally actually huffed) and began walking faster. train arrives. i explain, "that's our train & we're gonna miss it. we gotta move" i don't have a ticket. train in the station. my heart starts well not racing, but it's going. i have to purchase & validate. so i do. then there are those 2 people--impossible to pass, right in front of us & the train takes off & it goes.
"ahh. we missed it. that's our train!" (arrrggghhhhh.... in my mind i actually continue, if you didn't have to stop and check out whatever it was that distracted you. then i hear myself and then i decide to throw myself under the train instead/too. if i had the train ticket & only had to validate it. if i left 5 minutes earlier. knew the train time. if we didn't take so long) and we get to the bench. i'm more exasperated than him at this point, but i see my concern now planted in his mind. sadness slowly descends from his forehead to his jaw, his shoulders slump forward... 'we missed it, that's our train mama' he sighs. i hear my own voice, hopeless, disappointed echoing back.
and then thank goodness it kicks in, the realization...
"well actually, no" my heart now relaxed back into my body,
'if that was really our train, we'd be on it & we're not. so obviously we weren't meant to be on that train, we are meant to be on this one that comes in 14 more minutes.'
"oh so that wasn't our train?"
"no baby, mommy was wrong about that. i'm sorry i got flustered. i wanted to get on that train, but whatever train we get on is our train. who knows, maybe we'll see somebody we're supposed to see, or maybe it's just good for us to be here for a while."
his eyes brighten, catching skyline, lights dancing cross the water, pigeons. and mine do just the same. we continue our game of "i spy". we laugh.
his li'l hand takes hold of mine when he catches a glimpse of the train approaching. "here it is mama. here's our train. " "yep babe, here it is."
here it is.