Monday, January 23, 2012


Where do the words go?

Sometimes, they're just not there.

When my heart feels achy, sort of empty and old. When everything feels so hard.

I just can't strum them up.

So I need to do something. I'm happier when the words are there.

Sometimes it helps to notice the happy.


Today was perfect winter weather. Cold, but not a face melting freeze, fluffy soft snow. After school, we went outside. Thane, Seth, Claire, Max, and Mommy. Taking Max outside in the winter, and attempting to keep up with the 'big boys', it puts my fitness to the test. I watch my big boys, the able 6 and 9 year olds that they are, sleds slung over their backs, quickly climbing up the sledding hill ahead of us (not the small one, the BIG one, I call it Dragon Hill Mommy) as I shepard Claire, stumbling in front of me to make it over the high snow on the steep hill, eager to catch up to those brothers. Someday soon that three year old walking in front of me will be Max, and there will be no baby on my hip, watching the scene in amazement, snow on his black eyelashes. I squeeze him a little tighter, appreciate the weight in my arms.

On the flat at the top of the hill, I set Max up to watch the action in his little sled (well away from the lip of the run). He sits and watches those big brothers happily, a rosy cheeked puffball in his snowsuit, as Claire and I get ready to go down. She holds the rope excitedly, brave with Mommy on board, we glide down the hill gently with the help of a little brake action from Mommy's feet for our new sled rider. I turn around to hear Seth, "Here he comes!".

Seth's face is glowing, he's so excited... to introduce his brother to the infinite pleasures of sledding.

My heart leaps, Seth, no!, it's too late, Max has been sent off in his little blue sled (Moses and his basket pops into my mind), Seth realizes from my face this was not a great idea after all. And Max,


His sled stops.

"Nobody move. Don't move Max..." I singsong to Max as I clamour to him, grasping my second chance to intercede in what would surely be a scarring ride for Max.

Max wiggles in excitement, waving his snowsuit captive arms and bouncing in the stuck sled, looking down the hill wide eyed with glee, trying to restart what looked like good times. It was like watching a cartoon car balancing precariously on a ledge.

I get to him, breathe a deep breath, and we get back to the top. Thane and Claire recount the whole thing a hundred times, and Seth and I discuss why it would be a bad idea for Max to go down alone. He concurs.

But Max is so disappointed and now determined to crawl down, he ends up in my sled after all, between Claire and I.

Big boy.
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