On, In, and Around Mondays: Walking Me Back
We are on the couch, and she is reading Clarice Bean to me.
It's been a while since we sat so close. Is it because she's the younger child? Does that put her last in line? Sometimes I think it does.
Today her sister is not here, and now we sit, and she reads. Bit by bit, she moves closer. Her elbow is in my side. Now it's her back against me. Her head rests on my shoulder.
She's a wiggler, so the position keeps shifting. Now her legs are on my shins. Now she's walking me with her feet as if I'm a landscape.
I breathe her in, and my body feels strangely whole. I remember, suddenly, when I was her world. When, as an infant, she'd nurse and walk her feet up my torso, up to my shoulder, up to my neck, then back down. I was her river, her sky, her land.
Just for this moment, it is like nothing at all will ever happen again. Nothing but this walking. The earth, surely, has stopped its spinning. Or I have simply stopped mine.
On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.
If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)
This post is also shared with Laura Boggess, for...