Grateful to be Here

I was in the park with Sophia today – the old-fashioned Pioneer Park up in Waimea, with about a half a mile of wooden stair steps, bridges, gateways, towers and all manner of clime-able footage to enjoy.  They designed the structure with a number of waypoints – places to rest, sit and contemplate the remainder of the substantive and highly exploratory structure.

At one of these waypoints sat a woman;  pale, reserved and watchful.  In my continuous circuits of the structure, I got to know which parent traveled with which child, and could easily see family dynamics at work where several siblings were at play amongst the bars, rings, poles, tunnels and steps leading hither and thither. 

At some point it became obvious that she was attached to a young man chasing a 3 year-old blond girl through the structure.  As she ran by, I caught a “Hi Mommy!” and the woman bloomed in response

The place is a beehive of activity.  Which is why it made it all the more curious to see this woman at rest.  Sophia, not having the good grace one learns from accreted layers of civility learned over years of experience, chose to plop down next to this woman and announce that we were going on the bus.  The woman was graceful enough to respond “And where will the bus be taking us?”

“Azooga” was her prompt response.  This is one of her favorite destinations.  Apparently there is ice cream and any number of friendly dogs there.  The woman smiled gently, leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes and said “Let me know when we get there”.

Sophia made the requisite sounds and movements needed to drive our bus to the appointed destination.  Upon arrival, she said “It’s wake up time!”, and the woman popped up, only to slump back down upon the bench.  I reached out a hand to steady her, asking “Are you okay?”  She smiled wanly and looked poignantly across the play structure at her family, then turned to me directly and said “No.  I’m not okay.  But I’ve got a great family and I know they’ll be okay”.

God.  What to say now?  Sophia was closely watching every word; every nuance of the conversation.  Small children are enormously observant when they want to be, and she was sensing something important was passing before her.  I’m rarely completely at a loss for words, but this was pretty close.  Finally, after looking at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, I said “Is there anything I can do?” Clearly she was in distress, but I didn’t want to alarm Sophia further, nor did I want to pry.

The woman put her hand on my arm.  Even in the warmth of the sun, it was cool, thin and light as a feather.  “Thank you for asking” she said, then gave me a gentle squeeze, after which she released my arm and returned to watching her family play on the tower bridge across the way.

Knowing our time to depart had come, I said “Come on Sophia – lets see what Azooga has to offer today” and we left the “bus” and headed towards the flower garden.

I don’t know what illness had befallen her , but it seemed certain that it was dire.  I looked at the mussed hair, unbounded exuberance and delighted demeanor of MY almost three-year-old and had one of those golden moments of gratitude.  I’m glad to be alive.  I’m glad to be a mother, and I am very, very glad that I am well.

Comments

[nancy]

I love this story Kimberly! These teaching/learning moments in parenthood make it all the more worthwhile.