I Love You, I Know
This is a work in progress. I was inspired to write a picture book based on these famous Star Wars lines ("I love you." "I know.") But it ended up being an ode to my bookworm girls. So, in honor of Mother's Day, here it is. I love you, Mini Me and Little Lion. Seven and a half plump-tillion pieces.
I Love You, I Know
In the dark of night, when you climb into my bed after fitful dreams, my arms will reach for you. And when I turn over, your little arm will pat me before you snore the dreams away.
In the blue-black of night, when I burp you after a midnight feeding, your little head will butt against my chest. Aiming for a little bit more time.
When we drive to school in the mornings with the rising sun, I will point out the clouds, hung like chandeliers. What keeps them up? Our laughter?
In the yellowing light of the winter sun, we will still run at the beach, uncovering treasures in the sea.
A hot day, a handful of fish-shaped crackers, and a good book next to you in a bit of yellowing grass.
When we drive home, and I’m sorry that I yelled at you or when you’ve had a rough day, I’ll reach back and hold your hand. Getting larger in mine. But a comfort just the same. I hold your hand like my dad used to hold mine, except my hand would curl around just one of his fingers.
When you run into the school gate, too big to hug me good-bye, I’ll smile. Because you have a little smirk that says, “I love you, Mommy.”
And I know. Believe me, I know.
I've always felt lucky to be a mom, from the first second I spotted Mini Me in her warmer. (I was wiped out from 31 hours of labor and eventual c-section so I was out of it for several hours and couldn't hold her.) And I still feel lucky, in so many ways, to be a mom.
But for those moms with empty arms, I have empty arms too. I know how hard this commercial holiday is. And I want to wish you a happy and peaceful Mother's Day.