whether or not we were prepared for it, the chill of winter is here.
it bites and it stings, the kind of sharp air that burns your cheeks.
we can all feel the certain restlessness that accompanies these coming months. the sun sets early now and most days we stay in the comforts of home. it happens every year, i will find myself sitting at my desk tap-tap-tapping my pencil with eyes blankly staring at the wall in front of me, aching to be outside and trying to build up the nerve to bundle up. the temperatures hit the lowest they've been all season and my patience was dwindling, so your papa and I took you both to the hill we visited this past summer, dressed in as many layers as we could fit underneath your tiny bodies. we parked our car, you were both napping, rubbing your eyes you squealed in delight when you realized where we were. it amazes me how a such a tiny human can have the capacity to remember moments you've only experienced once before.
stepping out onto the grass together, we realize we are alone. the park is completely empty and I can see my eldest daughter running with pure joy toward the top of the hill. it looks different now, the grass is beginning to die and the children playing soccer on the field below have all gone back to school. i carry my youngest close to my chest, and if I'm lucky, I will catch up to her sister before she races down again with complete abandon. the air is eventually so cold that we have to take shelter in our car. alba sleepily nurses until she's full. sofia requests bites of the marshmallows we brought as a snack.
erick, I, and our collective histories and childhoods have led us to this very moment. this is a new journey that is truly all our own. the realizations become clear to me; so much of who we are is influenced by those that we spend our time with, the experiences we create, the languages we speak and the traditions and tiny nuances that come with raising your own family. when our daughters were born, it's as if we too were born again, this time with different names given that we've never been called before:
to our adventurous, curious girls, I wonder just how much of what we do will influence who you become. how the places we take you and things we teach you will become your normal, your culture. the way we carry you near us, feeling the gentle rhythm of our feet hitting the ground beneath us and our hips as they sway and stride across new land. will you remember? in the quiet of the night, I tip-toe to your sister's room and peek in at her sprawled across her bed. you're lying beside me, your breath still smells of milk and your tiny chest rises and falls as I try to take it all in. the weight of responsibility I feel toward these pure and delicate beings is unprecedented, their minds so malleable with the most innocent hearts. I know down to every last atom and cell in my body that there is no deeper love than what I have for them ~ I pour it every last thing that I do. looking up at the half-crescent sliver of a moon and the vast darkness of the universe, I find peace in this journey entrusted to me. tonight, that is enough.
i am incredibly honored to be amongst seventeen other inspiring mamas & papas, sharing my passion for babywearing in the sling diaries, volume iv. part of me is still in a happy, jumbled-up mix of excitement and disbelief... I swear I re-read my congratulatory invitation a million times over, (just to be sure!) thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting us as our family embarks on this new journey together.