We had time to kill before school. I was feeling particularly drawn to this child in this moment, so I heaved up her 8-year-old self and we bounced around the kitchen to the morning music.
We used to dance like this when you were a baby. I’d hold you like this and would bounce you around the room. You loved it.
Then before either of us knew it, we were swaying softly to a song we weren’t expecting to hear. The melody continued as the words bound us together:
You were my first love, always there for me
You taught me how to walk and how to dream
God gave me your eyes
But it was you who showed me how to see
Now I can stand on my own
But I know you’ll never let go
I’ll always be your baby
No matter how the years fly by
The way you love me made me
Who I am in this world…
Ignore this moment and I’ll miss it. Hold it tight and I’ll worry.
Cradle it and I’ll cry.
These are the moments when time stops and the weight of love nearly knocks me down. It is the tender weight of what is, what was and what will be. It is the awkwardness of these moments that beg me to turn away.
Find something to do. Find something to say. Find something to rationalize. Whatever you do, don’t feel this moment, tearfully, with the one you love.
Intimacy is so frightening.
Acknowledging the tenderness is so vulnerable.
But I’d rather be knocked down by the weight of love than run strong into isolation. So would you like to sit with me as I listen and cry?
My baby turns 8 today.
“I’ll Always Be Your Baby” Natalie Grant
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. ~C.S. Lewis