Just Us One

By Megan

I took a little day trip away from my family this weekend. I’d not been away from Peabody for this long since he was about six months old. In fact, except for while we’re both sleeping at night, I’m almost never apart from him – he’s my constant companion from dawn until dusk every single day. We even spend his nap times together, cuddled up in the big red chair in his cozy bedroom, him sleeping curled against me, his warm hands tucked and pressed against my ribcage, me nodding and drooling through my own halting nap or quietly reading blogs on my iPhone. I love these moments of our day, when I can enjoy the quiet, rounded peacefulness of this beautiful boy who, awake, shrieks and runs and climbs and bangs and explores and discovers new and creative ways to nearly kill himself at a pace that leaves my 42-year-old mind and body nearly panting with exhaustion at the end of every day.

On Saturday morning I left my boy (and my girl, and their Daddy, too, of course) feeling a bit nervous and empty-armed yet relieved to have a few hours of my own space. Driving down through the city and across state lines, sun working toward the gentle early-spring crescendo of noon, music feeling its way from ears to soul, I enjoyed the peace, the freedom and the … flow … of two hours alone.

The day played out in perfection – a full, bright, very quick afternoon, a baby shower for a friend-of-the-bosom I’ve never actually met, smiling into real, glowing faces I’ve only ever seen on digital screens, hugging and laughing and cooing and nipping off favorite pieces of each moment with my camera, to bring home and savor later.

Several other mothers at the shower had brought their beautiful babies along and as I saw each of them gather their little ones into themselves and retreat emotionally for few moments to that amazing place a nursing pair go – that place of connectedness and insulation and floating, soaring, simple peace – my arms and heart pinged a pang of missingness amidst all the poetic, surging beauty of women and light and giggles and moist eyes meeting and all of those lovely, purposeful feminine hands smoothing and admiring and making-right.

By the golden-warm winding-down of the party, the pinging pang of missingness became a melody inside me that played with jubilance but stopped halfway. I needed my sweet boy warm and solid against me again to finish this song. And so home, yesterday as the sun rose, I see him with newer eyes, fresh and rested and so in love with his soft hands and fuzzy hair and crazy peddling legs and big puppy-awkward feet. His smile beams directly into my eyes, his arms curl around my neck and his perfect yawning kisses bring me back to home. We’re a pair again, the two of us, and also, just us one.