Thursday, June 23, 2022

"Big Jump, Mommy!"

     As I sat out on the deck on our first family vacation since 2019, I stood up and looked out over the marina admiring the boats and the beautiful water. It was Father's Day, and I was missing my person immensely. Mostly because I knew how much he would’ve loved this spot. It was a new adventure and finding relaxing accommodations for our family’s size and standard was quite the chore. So, we were usually slow to try new places.  Sitting there in a daze, I knew baby Amira was close by. She is usually in my pocket.  She was jumping up and down watching her reflection in the paned patio door. One of the times she jumped so high it surprised me! " Wow, do it again! ", I nudged.  Amira proudly jumped again. She then turned to me and asked, "And again?" "Yes", I said with a smile. 

     After about a half dozen jumps Amira looked at me with a big smile, "Mommy, jump! Big jump, Mommy!" But I didn’t want to jump. I don’t want to jump. Big jumps, little jumps- I don’t want to.  Jumping is laborious and seemingly unbecoming of a mom- of -many in her late thirties. It's awkward. But my sweet therapy baby wanted me to join in her moment of wonder. Of course, I started to cry. Making the decision of whether to jump or let her down added to the emotional overwhelm that was already so heavy in that moment. Like she usually does, Amira came over, lifted my head with her tiny hand and said, " It’s OK Mommy." So, I mustered all of the strength I had, and I jumped.  I’m sure that’s going to have some poetic and prophetic meaning at some point in the future, that’s why I’m putting it here. But I don’t feel it right now. I’m just here... not wanting to jump. 











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