"Never since they were small children had they clustered about her so, and never since then had she been so aware of the smell of their hair, their softness, breathiness, abruptness. It filled her with a strange elation, the same pleasure she had felt when any one of them, as a sucking child, had fastened her eyes on her face and reached for her other breast, her hair, her lips, hungry to touch, eager to be filled for a while and sleep."
~ Housekeeping (Marilynne Robinson)
I watch
Maggie. I want to remember everything.
For a while now she has insisted on
being the one to say grace before our meals. Initially it was “Jesus
name, Amen!”. Now other words pepper her prayer. Food, Nan, toys, pop and
gran.
At night she insists on a story. Although I know it is
a delaying tactic, I never say no to reading her a story. A love for reading is something I
have actively tried to instil in each of my kids, and I value the opportunity
to read through old favourites again, being able to see the joy captured in another child.
Maggie hugs
her favourite doll, saying “shhhh” and rocking her. Then she brings her
to me and asks me to look after the doll (named Petal) as she has to go to
work. She puts a bag on her shoulder and blows a kiss, saying “luff you”
as she walks away. I don’t know whether I find this endearing, or whether it
makes me a little sad that it is routine for her.
She picks up
anything and pretends to talk on the phone, having very considered
conversations, saying “uh huh” and nodding and pausing for periods as she
“listens” to the voice on the other end.
I watch her
and I want to bathe in the moment. I look at Nicholas and Audrey and
I see how quickly time goes.
