Posted by: alegra22 | October 9, 2011

days of waiting

I sink into the hot bath, watching small bubbles form on my skin:

Thank you for the luxury of hot water, for the three scars braided between my hip bones, for the loyalty of my body.

These thoughts lift from my mind like steam. Sol cries out, “Mommy! Mommy! Where are you?”

He comes thundering down the hall, his heel bones striking the floor with precision. I hear his arms swooshing through the air, the material of his track pants rubbing together.

“I’m here,” I call out.
“Where?” His voice is high, anxious.
“In the bath.”
“Okay.”

His momentum stops.
“I thought you were gone.”

“I know.”

To the strain in my voice I whisper: Thank you for a child whose love builds in his body until it is too much. 

He returns to the lounge. There is quiet and my thoughts and the knowing that in five more minutes, the cycle will repeat. His voice tearing through the house, searching for me. My reassurance that I am still in the same place, I am not going anywhere.

In these days of waiting for our future, of waiting for the answer to Dan’s job interview last week, I’ve become aware of the stories I tell myself. Stories about motherhood, self-worth, marriage, friendships, and The Way Things Are.

I am grateful for the lessons of my mother’s stories. Her beautiful mind is like a powerful animal that has been wounded. She has taught me to trust that whether or not we can see it, there is always love surrounding us.

I am grateful for my father whose stories have been wild dogs, their breath hot on his heels, barking and howling, daring him to stumble. He has taught me that fear is nothing but a wind at our back, pushing us on.

The stories I tell myself don’t belong to the media, society, past hurts, or any particular set of circumstances.

Stories are stories.

Stories are woven into the air. Some of them climb on our chest at night and crouch, stealing our breath as they whisper, “You will be forsaken, abandoned, punished. Who are you to think you are worthy of love, success, joy?” Some of them lift gravity from our limbs and smile, “There are no limits. You are perfectly loved.”

Sol calls out to me, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

“Yes, Sol. I am still here.”

“Where?”

“In the bath.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you were gone.”

“No, I’d never go anywhere without telling you.”

“If I can’t see you, I don’t know you’re here.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I am. I’m here.”

I sink deeper into the water and listen to the story surrounding my family in these days of waiting:

Everything you need is here, even when you can’t see it.

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Responses

  1. simply amazing….thanks.

  2. I love the sentiments of both your mother and father about love and fear. Your words are always most fitting toward what I myself need to hear. I am glad you are blogging again. I will do my best to keep up as your words are always so inspiring to me!

  3. Every day a child takes his mother’s love for granted is a good day.

    Good luck with the interview. Call & e-mail every other week. Stay on them! Two e-mails and two phone calls is not too much.

  4. It is good to be thankful for the gifts in our life, and to know that the gift is there, no matter what form it takes. Love is the key when things matter most.

    Good luck to Dan! I am pulling for you all.

    Love and blessing upon you, family.

    Auntie D…

  5. Simply beautiful, moving, Alegra… I haven not read one of your blogs in a very long time, mostly because of the overwhelm of my own busy daily life, but I realize how your writing helps me to stop and slow down for a moment, and in that moment I enter a new world, a kind of meditation. I forget how perfect things can be; how poignant words can pierce the heart in me, can calm me, and offer me hope, love, kindness, understanding….grace. Thank you for the gift of your words and your stories that map out invisible realms carved with such lucidity and power….

  6. I can fully understand this. I myself live this way. I figure that I only have to say things like “I love you” once or twice to the people I care about and that should be enough for them to know that I love them…Why should I have to say it ALL THE TIME or even have to hug them all the time.

    Your story highlights the fact that not everyone has that same self-assurance that everything is okay. Most people need validation to their feelings. They need to know that everything is going to be okay. Which makes it harder when they can’t see you. Just being in the same room is enough for them to feel comfortable and safe. You don’t even have to say anything to them. Just the knowledge that you are a forward somersault away is enough to make them happy.

    A perfect analogy for me would be having someone you love in the same room as you yet feeling as though they are miles away from you. Thats a yucky feeling. The complete opposite of what you want to feel. Your story reminds me of this. Don’t be complacent with your feelings towards the ones you love.


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