March 14, 2016
Today has been a rough day. All parents have them, days that jackhammer the foundation and cover every experience with the dust of broken hearts, crumpled promises, and decimated plans. Like wrecking balls, the kids go toe-to-toe with words and blows like boxers in an arena, as parents step between their progeny, more like punching bags than referees. Indeed, today made me long for the serenity of a long, lonely drive – perhaps I’d drive far enough north to see the northern lights dance before returning home.
Instead, I fed them and sent them off to bed. I nestled my 5 year old M-Man close for his bed time story. His actions during the hellacious experience involved only minor naughtiness. He put his head to my chest. “I hear your heart.” He looked up, his brows shadowy concern. “I think it sounds like it might have got broken a little bit tonight.”
I kissed his head, loving the softness of his fine hair. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
He pointed his palms toward me. “I think I can give you some of my happy thoughts so that your heart can be fixed.”
I kissed his cheeks. “Now you keep your happy thoughts. I’ll make some more of my own, don’t you worry.”
He took my face in his chubby hands and gazed into my eyes. “Here’s the thing, though. I don’t want you to be sad.”
My heart gave a little jump inside me, like a dolphin bounding over a wave. I don’t want any of my children to experience pain and sadness, yet they do. I try to help them through, but I’m not always successful, and the efforts are not always met with enthusiasm. Yet before me sat a little man intent upon restoring his Mama’s joy. “Make up my own happy thoughts,” indeed. I smiled, willing my mind to recall every detail of the moment, and gave him a last bedtime kiss on his forehead. “Don’t you worry, little man. I have a brand new happy thought.”
To read more letters, click on The Path!