I had a moment on Sunday. Life is moments strung together, isn’t it? And this one was a moment for the top of the string.
Sunday was a beautiful Fall day, one of those crisp air days, with blue sky and sunshine and the crunch of Ontario maples beneath my feet. It was the second day of an atypical under-scheduled weekend, two full days in which my family of four spent no more than a couple of waking hours apart. Just how I like it. After an early Sunday dinner, we decided to wander over towards the library to return some books and play some baseball. We grabbed the bat and the ball, the books and the bag, the pup and the dog treats, and away we went.
It’s a short ten-minute walk from my house to Burlington’s Central library, located on a huge urban greenspace with ball diamonds, soccer fields, and a playground just outside the library doors. As we wandered along, the sky began to shift towards an early sunset, another reminder that Winter is on its way. We entered the park, and my daughter and I headed towards the book drop bin, while my husband, son, and puppy headed for the baseball diamond. We called the dog back and forth, a few hundred metres separating ourselves, practicing her recall command, marvelling at her temperament, and showering her with praise and treats. At the book drop bin, I passed pile after pile of Berenstain Bears books, as my daughter happily loaded them into the drawer, waiting for the thump of a book deposit success. Job done, we headed back across the expanse of grass, towards the baseball diamond and our family game.
And that’s when the moment happened.
“Mom,” she said, her six-year-old hand in mine. “I……. I……. I,” she stammered, searching for her words. I could hear the emotion in her voice and see the depth of her feelings splayed across her face. “I love you Mom,” she said as she turned towards me and reached her arms up, her unspoken signal to be picked up. At fifty pounds and four feet tall, she’s not a toddler anymore, but she’s still my baby, and I’ll happily take a wrap-around hug anytime she’s giving them out.
I picked her up, breathed her in, squeezed her tight. And as her little cheek pressed up against mine, I felt the moment overwhelm me too.
Bliss. Gratitude. Joy. Presence. Whatever you want to call it, we felt it.
Green grass under our feet, pink sky above our heads, a puppy at our side, a baseball in our hands. It all came together on Sunday night.
A moment, that’s all.
But a big moment for us.
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