When the mommy brigade takes over Panera with their newborns I want to run.
In fact I do run, right out the front door.
Tiny heads with tiny hats on them. Little animal-eared sweaters. Most days it doesn’t affect me. Most days I don’t feel like the air has been squeezed out of my chest. But today I do.
Sometimes we don’t understand why.
Why so many around me this year carried that hope in them, that new life, only to have it be snuffed out. Why good people, the best people, lost the most precious thing in the world.
And the pain came in waves that wouldn’t stop.
I don’t get these things.
There are so many things we can live without. Without nice cars and kitchen cabinets. Without ac and cheeseburgers. Without the people we need nearby.
We don’t know until we have to. But then we do.
But we cannot live without love.
So when he rolls over and holds my face in his hands through my mascara and tears,
I feel the world come into focus.
On days when I want to feel really sorry for myself, or really angry that it hasn’t happened for me, on days when the waiting seems unbearable,
I glance over at this person, who knows to put on a comedy series when I can’t stop crying,
who knows how to tether me to a singular hope when I want to give up,
and my whole broken and battered heart wants to implode with gratitude
that he is mine.
The world is not fair. We’re never quite where we want to be.
But there are sparks.
We have to catch the shimmer.
We have to say thank you for what is here and now. And sit with it.
For when someone is exactly what you need them to be.
For when he gets it right.
For sunny days.
New best friends.
Any tiny chihuahua’s who lick your face, named Rosalita-Chiquita-Banana-Pants.
