This post has ‘reblog’ written all over it. My friend Dawn has such a gift. I know you’ll love this as much as I do. — Lisa
Originally posted on Tales from the Motherland:
Dear young mother at the park,
Today I watched you stand by the bay, holding your baby boy, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I’m not a stalker; I’m an aging mother, and seeing you there, touched me. The sun was shining, the breeze making the waves kick up on the water. Your little boy, a year and a half? Maybe two? Your boy slept with his chubby arms wrapped around your neck, his head nestled against your chest, his face in your neck. Oh my God, how my heart skipped a beat. His face looked like my little boys’, twenty years ago, sixteen years ago. I think it really did look like my boy, but that happens more and more these days. It’s been a long time since a little boy held my neck and slept so contently.
You stood there for a long time, and I wondered what you were thinking. I wondered if you knew how delicious that moment was? I hope so. People told me it was delicious, when my boys were little like that, but it was hard to remember when I was tired from lack of sleep, or wanting a break, and when baby talk and soft food were one more thing to get done each day. There were some sweet, sweet moments when I would pause and notice how incredible my little one’s voices were. There were days when they slept against me and their sweat was the most sacred smell I knew. Each one of my babes had their own smell, and I swear I’d know it still, if I could have bottled it then.