Sugar andSpice and
Every
Thing
Nice...
That's
What
Little
Girls
are Made
of.
When I had Wren in the summer of 2005, I had some sort of notion of how my former world and future world would be different. I was looking forward to moving out of the place that had been "me" and moving into another that was "her". I had had enough time to live for myself, and my husband and I had five years under our belts to navigate the road map of living as a family. I had enjoyed success in both my personal life and career, and right as I was approaching the birth of my daughter, that career success I had worked so hard to achieve would disintegrate right before my very eyes. It was the beginning of the economic bubble and the signs of its inevitability were becoming impossible to deny. I think every parent worries about how they will provide for their families in the long run. We all face uncertainty of some sort, whether it be the health of our children, finances, our own abilities as parents- the list can go on and on. One thing I knew for sure the moment Wren was put in my arms was that my heart would forever remain no longer inside of me, but permanently take up residence in her. It managed to do this again two years later when baby Dane was placed in my arms, but this is another story. The news of the past four years hasn't been better in regards to the economy, as if I have to tell anyone that. What I have found, however, is that I reside in some sort of unshakable bliss. Sure, there are moments when the realities of the world's troubles creep into my bliss, but those moments really seem to be short lived. I imagine that this bottomless well of love that I feel while watching this child grow has a lot to do with my rosy outlook, but I also am keenly aware that Wren's wonder about the world and everything in it has re infiltrated my senses. I watched her little blond head glittering in the sunshine while picking up seashells on the beach last week in Florida, looking at each one, putting some back, and putting others in her pockets. I watched her do the same thing on Valentines Day with colorful rose petals from my sister's wedding. Pocketfuls were given to me once we were back in the car and their scent was as beautiful as their hue. Everything in Wren's world is a treasure to be looked at, carefully studied, and sometimes squirreled away in a pocket for future admiring. I sometimes find these hidden treasures months later in a pocket of her last season's jacket and they always bring a smile. Wren's needs are so few, and most of them are so easy to meet, regardless of what happens on the news. Last night, a small voice called out from a few inches away, "Mama, will you hold me?". I put down my knitting, switched off the light, switched off thinking about the pros and cons of the stimulus package, and thanked the Heavens above for Little Girls.
