Scott and Golda had just left for flute lessons in a breathless rush. I had sent Xanthe and Ptolemy on an excursion through the back yard to Coco and Bill's house, bundled up against the wind. Freestone was getting ready for basketball, Ruby practicing. Araceli was at dance, doing what I always tell her to do when she gets out of the car: "Dance your little heart out!"
It was just Tziporah and me, snuggled up, and she was drifting off to sleep. I wrapped her in blankets, laid her down and tiptoed into the kitchen to make a steaming cup of hot chocolate and steal a few minutes of silent solitude. Not one minute later, Freestone carefully carried Tziporah into the kitchen. Cradling her in his arms, he said, "Mom, she's hungry." For one second, I was annoyed. How had he acted so quickly to interrupt my quiet time? Then I looked at Freestone's fresh little face and my heart surged with adoration. An eight-year-old boy holding a baby is irresistible.
When a moment seems to become sanctified, you have to stop and take the gift life is offering you. I got my steaming cup of chocolate and curled up on the couch, watching Freestone give Tizzy her bottle. We talked about whether things would cost three thousand dollars a thousand years in the future and what I would do if I put on a mask and it was an old man's mask and it only had one tooth and it became my real face. Important stuff.
Thanks for the gift, Freestone.
3 comments:
What a precious picture and a precious moment, you were right not to lose that moment and to take the opportunity to bond with TZ and Freestone alone, those moments will pass all too quickly. XO Tricia
And that is why you are a brilliant mom!
So sweet!
Post a Comment