OYM Day 8: The DareDevil
I spent most of the day with my daughter. It started with waffles and cartoons, then a bike ride, some time splashing in the pool. I made her mac n’ cheese with a side of cucumber slices. I cut her grapes into pieces. While she napped, I left my husband with her and I went grocery shopping. I got her the yogurts she likes, watermelon (because I love to see her eyes light up and hear her say yum yum yum). I got home with just enough time to listen to a third of a podcast and sit, untouched.
When she woke up, we went right back in the pool. Then I prepped dinner, we watched fragments of a movie, and we flip-flopped between books, searching for a stuffed dog, and essentially wrestling.
That’s what I did today. Physically, anyways. Today was special, though. I’m going to remember today. I don’t really know how to explain it, but she took me back today. I was in the pool and she was jumping into the water, straight into my arms. The water was cold and would splash her face just enough to give her a scare. But I had her. And she would open her eyes and look at me. After her first jump I told her, “you’re okay, you did it”…and she would say “more”. She would jump. I would catch her. For an hour. And the part I’ll remember most is the way she would look at me.
She would open her mouth wide and jump into the water… and when the shock of the cold would subside, she would blink the chlorine from her eyes and look at me. We did not speak. Her eyes asked me if she was okay. My eyes told her she was. Her small, clenched hands would loosen their grip on my bathing suit and she would exhale.
She would search my face for a second to make sure I was telling the truth. I kept waiting for her to say she was done, that she was scared to jump, but instead, she insisted more. More. More, mama. Until I told her it was time to go make dinner.
I’m sure I could dissect this moment and make it mean a variety of things. But instead, I’m just going to remember the way it felt.
The way her face blocked out the sun and her eyes looked like waves on a stormy sea. And how when she looked at me, I could tell that she was searching for something. Whatever it was, she knew I would catch her. Again, and again.
I want to remember this.