The sleeping-basket whose sides once offered you security now are too confining. You stretch out and whimper awake. I remember just a few short weeks ago kissing your moist cheeks before tucking the blanket around you and lying down in my own bed, watching you as I surrendered to my own sleep. Now as I pack the basket away, I realize...this season of your life has passed.
The heel of your blue socks sits on the arch of your foot, threatening to slide off when you kick. I remember packing for my journey to the hospital when I knew you were soon to be born. I brought along the tiniest pair of baby socks I could find and yet they were still too big! I place the now-too-small booties in the box with the other keepsakes and realize...this season of your life has passed.
I put you on the floor to change your diaper and you grin as you roll onto your tummy. I remember a time when I would lay you down and you reflexively wrapped into a familiar curl, arms and legs pulled in against your middle. At a sudden noise, you would startle. Now, as I roll you back to me, I realize...this season of your life has passed.
But this is not a time of mourning. Just as winter is now yielding to spring, the passing of your seasons has allowed for the ushering in of new ones.
~This is a season of discovering-- the grass, your tongue, strangers...
~This is a season of being nourished exclusively at my breast...
~This is a season of bouncing on my hip as I cook and serve...
~This is a season of laughing at your brothers as they do the silly tricks only boys can do...
~This is a season of toppling block towers...
~This is a season of napping and waking in my arms as I teach the others...
~This is a season of grabbing the crinkly pages of Daddy's Bible while he reads...
~This is a season of sticking close to home.
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven."
The heel of your blue socks sits on the arch of your foot, threatening to slide off when you kick. I remember packing for my journey to the hospital when I knew you were soon to be born. I brought along the tiniest pair of baby socks I could find and yet they were still too big! I place the now-too-small booties in the box with the other keepsakes and realize...this season of your life has passed.
I put you on the floor to change your diaper and you grin as you roll onto your tummy. I remember a time when I would lay you down and you reflexively wrapped into a familiar curl, arms and legs pulled in against your middle. At a sudden noise, you would startle. Now, as I roll you back to me, I realize...this season of your life has passed.
But this is not a time of mourning. Just as winter is now yielding to spring, the passing of your seasons has allowed for the ushering in of new ones.
~This is a season of discovering-- the grass, your tongue, strangers...
~This is a season of being nourished exclusively at my breast...
~This is a season of bouncing on my hip as I cook and serve...
~This is a season of laughing at your brothers as they do the silly tricks only boys can do...
~This is a season of toppling block towers...
~This is a season of napping and waking in my arms as I teach the others...
~This is a season of grabbing the crinkly pages of Daddy's Bible while he reads...
~This is a season of sticking close to home.
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven."
Mama
So sweet! It makes me nostalgic for the time when BB was that small.
ReplyDeleteI love being able to kinda go through these seasons with you...and let you write about them as well as you do! I do enjoy your words.
ReplyDeletemany blessigns!
Amanda