I’m stretching my arms, sitting up straight, wiggling my fingers and breathing heaps full of the now that is mine; in my room, in my chair, with my dog, and my passions…oh yeah, and some really really great wine that may or may not have the most nostalgic effect on me.
The “bloggity blog mojo” playlist sings a certain calmness over me as I rejoice a little of this life, this gift that keeps singing a brilliant song over me and this heart. Rising up made the fall worth it…I’d even do it again, all of it to be here again and again and again, (though I’d probably forgo a certain shower moment…). But oh, this life is just so so beautiful.
“mercy, will we overcome this…carry on just a little bit longer as I try to give you what you need…” hashtag, so thankful. SO SO THANKFUL…
The chocolate from the samoas leaves the most delicious taste on my tongue. and here I go, tasting so much of the realness that I’m living.
I spent the last three weekends doing the me thing…leaving traces of my passion and love in Charlottesville, in Boston, in my Home-aha and fitting in commitments and school work into the left over crumbs of this awesome feast.
I could write about C’ville with my lady friends, or Boston with my happy friends, but in all honesty darlings, those trips seem light years away, and right now all I can think about is the smell and warmth of fuzzy baby fitting her tiny head into my crease where elbow meets forearm, where her heart meets mine, where I melt and am forced to leave you with this:
February 28, 2013:
A few years ago I boarded a plane to fly half way across my world to visit my childhood friend. The one I love with life because she was doing life, breathing life, feeling life–giving life.
And as I sat on the runway calming myself by counting to ten 500 times to keep from attacking the flight attendants and pilots so I could get to the hospital, there he came…Westen Dean, our first little miracle.
Today, I’m on a plane again. And here she goes, my soul-sister whom I’ve loved since age three. Take a breather Nic and let these tears drop with some special love, for your girl giving life…
No but for cereal seriousness-ity. My kiddo, you’re grown up and beautiful and so special. And this is your day, again! God’s given you two…and by His grace- I’ve been loved enough to experience the gift to see you be mama, twice. These tears keep falling because I just love you. These tears keep falling because I love her, already. These tears keep falling because you’re a good mama, a great mama, a born-to-be mama. And I get to see and know this miracle, these miracles. To hold your babies with love that only your soul would let me fall in love with as if they were mine too….and yes, I s’pose we’ll share with Papa J. it’s only fair. Damn these tears….
You and I, we’ve shared a lot: late nights star gazing, boy crazing, life dazing while you were you and I was me. Yet here we are, with you there and me here… so different than those girls back then, separated and at such different places in life that send us into unintentional neglect and even hurt. But on days like today, we are reminded through these life events that those words, “soul-sisters” are the truest ones we’ll ever know or feel, ones that your husband and my future husband will never know, will never come close to understanding. Because deep down, there’s still a tiny trace of those girls that they never knew. You and I find them in our giggles and tears and hugs and support…but especially in moments like these; where the truth comes out to say “I’m still there for you and trust that you’ll be there for me too.”
So here I come, because Mama, I know you’re nervous. Mama, I know you’re ready. And Mama, I’m so dang proud of you, because you is some beauty-freakin-fulla-love.
My soul-sista, I’m taking advantage of the wi-fi on my flight to Dallas but here’s what I’m also doing…I’m holding your hand in my heart where this soul-sista support gives you strength, oh my sweet mama-sista, just breathe! Hey- we’ve got this. You, me, Jer, and Mother C. Hey! Bring her to us already and let us cry these happy tears that flood her with love, that give her to our Lord, that hold her forever.
I’m counting to ten with you as a flash of memories *brings more tears… Nooo…well, maybe…. I’m counting to ten with you as we breathe through those pangs that turn to joy with each thought of our childhood, the wild summer nights flipping through the best kind of dreams that were white and flowery and shining and special. Because now they’re coming to life, literally. And we’ve prayed for these moments. Oh mama-kiddo, breathe them in.
And I love you. and her.
ps. how cool was it to get off the plane to see the text from your mom saying, “she’s here.” Oh Lord, how Your Spirit moves among us.
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Welcome to our world little one!
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