“Moooommyyy…,” he called in the typical way that he did when he wanted to ask her something that wasn’t urgent or life threatening, but still stuck somewhere in the wires of his brain.
The air was cold and crisp this morning. Snow was still falling, but after a delicious breakfast of cheerios, orange slices, and toast they decided that it was time for their morning walk. They walked every morning. Bundled up and got cozy enough to go on a winding adventure around their land. Now was the best time to learn about the world. About birds, foxes, trees, and icicles . There was, as always, a hunt for dinosaur fossils — scuffed boots kicking over rocks and random leaves hoping to find that hidden treasure. Mounds and drifts of snow lined the path and made everything this morning seem pristine and new. A fresh start to a new day filled with decorating, dancing, and reading stories.
“Yes, bug?” she called out with a warm tone that could make the coldest of winter’s days feel like twilight in the middle of June. Her breath created a fog that blew from between her lips as she watched him. Watched him twirl and whiz around with his air plane giving flight to its blue wings.
“Do you love me?” he asked. Ah.. this very familiar question rises again! He asked it with an assuredness that most 4 year olds have when they know the answers. Though he was being more of an actor these days and added a slightly deflated undertone to his words. Like a careful, worried mother, she watched him hop, skip, and spin recklessly ahead of her. He always came back before her voice got the itch to fuss at him. She could see a green eye peek from around the hem of his hoodie when he looked over his shoulder. Absinthe tucked her fingers inside her coat after shoving a short strand behind her ear only for it to fall right back to where it was. This hair cut wasn’t meant to stay out of her eyes, obviously.
“Mmm. Yes bug. I do.” She responded and smiled. There was no time left for him to guess or doubt the extent to which she cared about her little critter.
“To the moon and back, mommy?” the dialogue was the same. Repeated, practiced, and rehearsed to perfection. Their steps were as slow and aimless as the path they were walking. And in this moment, there was nobody in the world but them… with the birds, foxes, trees and icicles.
“Yes my bug. To the moon… around Jupiter, Mars, and even Pluto.. back to you.”
— For my very own mother who’s breast cancer has returned. I love you. Absi.
[Blog details tomorrow.]