Tuesday, September 24, 2013

What I Did

I stood outside the back door, pondering all the times in the day I'd raised my voice at the kids. It was a lot, once I got thinking about it. Now that naps were over, I was in the middle of resigning myself to the hours and hours of wakeful children ahead of me before bedtime.

Then Bea came over all sugar and spice. That's what we call it when she's sweet. I felt bad for being an old meanie, but at the same time, what with the sun coming through the mimosa and the wasps chilled to silence, I felt a burst of motherly affection.

I swooped her up. And up, up over my head. I threw all her 40 some pounds right into the air. And I caught her in my pouch, my arms a sling and her legs wrapped around what's left of my middle. And at that moment, something went all wrong in my back. It happened so quick, there wasn't a sound.

The ice-cream truck came and I went on, as mothers always seem to do. But now it's just a touch harder.

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