There, hanging in the air, like you've said it a million times before, is your first word. A greeting. An invitation to interact. An acknowledgement of relationship. A verbal expression of acceptance.
I say it back, and mimic your wave, hoping to hear it again. That sweet voice that grew within me from a seed, until I ballooned and birthed you into this hard world. The little breath of anticipation you take just before you speak, the breath that reminds me how simple all of this really is, that I too often lose simplicity in the shuffle of daily tasks and expectations.
And I smile, I am sure bigger than ever before. I can't help but approach and say, "Up?" just to see you lift your arms, waiting for my embrace.
To be a mother renders me full, satisfied, saturated in peace.
I have been participating in imperfect prose on thursdays, a blog initiative spearheaded by my friend, emily, at in the hush of the moon. Please click on her button below to read the posts of other participants through her blog.