There are days even now, when I've learned of boundaries and separateness (things she knows nothing about yet), that the world weighs too much. I feel tired for the carrying, for the loving and the holding and the amount of sorrow you can fit in a pound.
But I wouldn't trade my heart, and I won't trade hers either. There's something to be said for being with, for walking alongside and holding hands and letting your hands be held, too.
----The days are shorter and that's a good thing. Winter is a lonely time, they say, though I can't help but think that when naked branches reach towards the sky we get a chance to see what's really there, under the fancy red dress that's fallen off piece by piece over the last weeks.
Lonely, maybe, but only in the way that soul-sharing is lonely in that moment before one hand, then another, reach out to give support.
Winter is nature's introvert. Summer is the extroverted sister, and fall and spring are the twins that mediate between them.
I hope she loves the snow like I do, loves looking at her extra-big footprints as she leaves steps behind her. I hope she learns to watch the leaves fall and feel the changes in her heart as the seasons change outside.
I pray she can embrace the winter times, in her life and her soul, with grace and beauty and peace. They are but a moment, here and there, where she gets to stop and lie dormant.
I pray that I learn to embrace them, too, to make my peace with absence and lying fallow and gestation, just as I've made it with presence and fullness and growth.
Joining with Imperfect Prose, over at Emily's.