Lost and Found
Have you ever found something that was lost? Experienced that flash of relief and rush of happiness? Those fist pumping, YES! moments are some of the most profound examples of extreme mood swings I've ever experienced. Intense frustration and anxiety to instant elation and peace.
Better yet, have you ever found something that you didn't even know was lost? Like the 20 dollar bill you find crumpled in a pair of pre-preggo pants you can finally fit into again a year after they were tucked away. The thrill of that unexpected cash, while foregoing the anxiety of knowingly displaced money, creates a feeling of euphoric luck. As if everything good is coming your way.
Last night, Burke and I struggled to get the girls to bed for two long hours. We had planned on making a cinnamon white chocolate popcorn recipe Kellie sent and nestling into the next installment of the Star Wars films; Revenge of the Sith. Instead, we took turns rocking a fussy baby and dealing with a wired 4-year-old who insisted she wasn't one bit tired. It was nearly 10 o'clock by the time there was blessed silence from the nursery and we lay deflated, plans deffered to another stay-in date night.
Deep sleep became our priority, yet, as I tied the sash of my robe tight against my weary body and turned off the lights in the kitchen, the summer stillness called to me from the window. I grabbed Burkie's hand and dragged him out to his new Father's Day hammock hanging limply between two shady apple trees.
As we stealthily crossed the lawn, the sky looked like a movie backdrop: shimmering crescent moon with two unnaturally bright stars cozied up on either side and a confetti of blinking lights scattered across the navy remnant. A youthful giddiness took possession of my body as I held my sweetheart and kissed his unshaven face. We laughed like teenagers as we attempted to lay together in the single-man sling with a weight limit of 250 pounds and heard the tethers creak in protestation. Not wanting to snap Burke's less than 24-hour-old gift, we settled on the swingset instead, our hushed conversation sounding loud in the still night. I pumped my legs back and forth, smiling up at the stars as they beamed down their affirmation that all was right in the world.
The sprinklers burst into life with their rapid staccato and signaled a closure to our escapade. As I playfully dashed around the wet spray, laughing on the porch steps, dancing from toe to to toe, watching as Burkie sensibly made a wide arch to avoid the water, I caught my breath in surprise as a young woman I had not seen for a long time echoed in my memories. Unprecipitated, I found a piece of me I had never noticed had gone missing.
In the past four years of mothering, with few nights of uninterrupted respite and the hourly, minutely responsibility of keeping another human breathing, the weight of this adult role had surreptitiously taken its toll. Slowly chiseling away at my spontaneity, my playfulness and even flirtatious sassiness with my handsome husband. To think that such a defining part of my personality, the energy and zest that had compelled Burke to pursue me in the first place, had faded away to a shadow of it's former life brought me to a somber standstill in the frame of the door.
Those few unburdened minutes had reawakened that bright eyed girl. Burke too recognized her, saw her flitting across my face and promised more nights of improvisation, more moments of whim so together we can keep her alive and well. It felt so good to fall asleep with the found part of my soul nestled safely back where it belonged.
Better yet, have you ever found something that you didn't even know was lost? Like the 20 dollar bill you find crumpled in a pair of pre-preggo pants you can finally fit into again a year after they were tucked away. The thrill of that unexpected cash, while foregoing the anxiety of knowingly displaced money, creates a feeling of euphoric luck. As if everything good is coming your way.
Last night, Burke and I struggled to get the girls to bed for two long hours. We had planned on making a cinnamon white chocolate popcorn recipe Kellie sent and nestling into the next installment of the Star Wars films; Revenge of the Sith. Instead, we took turns rocking a fussy baby and dealing with a wired 4-year-old who insisted she wasn't one bit tired. It was nearly 10 o'clock by the time there was blessed silence from the nursery and we lay deflated, plans deffered to another stay-in date night.
Deep sleep became our priority, yet, as I tied the sash of my robe tight against my weary body and turned off the lights in the kitchen, the summer stillness called to me from the window. I grabbed Burkie's hand and dragged him out to his new Father's Day hammock hanging limply between two shady apple trees.
As we stealthily crossed the lawn, the sky looked like a movie backdrop: shimmering crescent moon with two unnaturally bright stars cozied up on either side and a confetti of blinking lights scattered across the navy remnant. A youthful giddiness took possession of my body as I held my sweetheart and kissed his unshaven face. We laughed like teenagers as we attempted to lay together in the single-man sling with a weight limit of 250 pounds and heard the tethers creak in protestation. Not wanting to snap Burke's less than 24-hour-old gift, we settled on the swingset instead, our hushed conversation sounding loud in the still night. I pumped my legs back and forth, smiling up at the stars as they beamed down their affirmation that all was right in the world.
The sprinklers burst into life with their rapid staccato and signaled a closure to our escapade. As I playfully dashed around the wet spray, laughing on the porch steps, dancing from toe to to toe, watching as Burkie sensibly made a wide arch to avoid the water, I caught my breath in surprise as a young woman I had not seen for a long time echoed in my memories. Unprecipitated, I found a piece of me I had never noticed had gone missing.
In the past four years of mothering, with few nights of uninterrupted respite and the hourly, minutely responsibility of keeping another human breathing, the weight of this adult role had surreptitiously taken its toll. Slowly chiseling away at my spontaneity, my playfulness and even flirtatious sassiness with my handsome husband. To think that such a defining part of my personality, the energy and zest that had compelled Burke to pursue me in the first place, had faded away to a shadow of it's former life brought me to a somber standstill in the frame of the door.
Those few unburdened minutes had reawakened that bright eyed girl. Burke too recognized her, saw her flitting across my face and promised more nights of improvisation, more moments of whim so together we can keep her alive and well. It felt so good to fall asleep with the found part of my soul nestled safely back where it belonged.
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