Wednesday, December 15, 2010

A year in a day (#reverb10, Day 15)

#Reverb10, Day 15, Prompt: 5 minutes. 
Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you mostwant to remember about 2010.

Tonight, my daughter and I danced together, and I felt lighter on my feet than I have in a long time. At first she watched me, as if afraid to let go and have fun only to have me walk away. My daughter sees me as walking away a lot, though I hope she eventually understands that perspective changes everything. After about twenty seconds, she decided to believe me and her face broke out in joy. We danced and twirled and laughed. Our eyes met and I saw how raw her love for me is. I softened my eyes to let them show her whatever she could see of my love. She started singing, "thank you thank you thank you love love love!" so I sang it with her. We collapsed to the ground and I wrapped her up in my arms on my lap, so small and portable, so warm and sweet. Her hair smelled like purity. Every cell in my being vibrated with love until I couldn't tell where she ended and I began, like the way we started together in one body. We sunk into each other and hugged for a minute; then, she jumped up. "Let's dance again, mommy!"

Tonight, my son and I laughed together. He was resisting tooth brushing by rote rather than actual aversion. I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of this nightly ritual we both dread, and caught his eye. He got the joke and his frown dissolved though he tried to keep a stoney face. I reached over and brushed his cheek with my hand. I lightly tickled his tummy and we giggled together. Our eyes met, and he intoned a few sounds - ah, enh, EEEEE, then stuck out his tongue, BLA! He was delighted when I repeated the tones back, complete with the BLA! His laugh surprised and thrilled him. We repeated back and forth for awhile, laughing between tones, our smiles taking up half our faces. Then, in a moment, my focus shifted. Suddenly and for only a second, I saw him as now, as an older child, as a teen, as a man, as an elder, as a force of energy, all at once! The shock of it pushed me backward. My laugh surprised us both, infecting him, and it felt like our joy in each other filled a void in the universe.

Tonight, my husband and I held each other. I stood my toes on his toes, our thighs and stomachs and chests pressed together, our faces buried in each others' necks, our arms holding tight. The rest of this memory I reserve for us.

Tonight, I moved with myself as one. I closed my eyes and played music arranged for someone I care about, sharing some of my love-space with that person and all those I think of when I'm in a state of love. I stretched and challenged my muscles, eased and massaged tensions, breathed my breath from my belly and felt the power I am building. I was, for several consecutive moments, calm, peaceful and certain. I held myself in a loving hug and relaxed into it, knowing that I am enough.

These memories are all I need to take, the culmination and representation of everything that mattered this year. They are infused into my being.