Rocking Chair & I

Last March, I held our spring in my arms for the first time. Just days before we had planted the wildflowers and zinnias. A week or so after the spring birthday of Spring itself, we planted our sunflower seeds almost like colorful sprinkles in a flurry over a kid’s classic birthday cake. There was no rhythm to that spring of ours–it was simply going to be whatever it was. We were busy holding ours.

one of my favorite photos from our first year with Heidi Letta

As Heidi grew so did the flowers. And so did we. It turned into the best spring season of Green Fables to date. It towered to the blue sky in sunflowers. It showed up in the playhouse built for our children that fall. The butterflies decided we were the unbeatable local coffee shop. The zinnias said hello. The laughter that spilled out in those long, warm afternoons remain one of Green Fables’ greatest treasures. And Heidi’s rose must have known she was finally here because it never bloomed so well before.

The years tend to move in split-seconds these days, but Heidi’s first year feels like the blink lasted just as long and full as it should have. I don’t feel cheated, or that time should have slowed down, or that I need to scurry back for more. It has been so, so good.

These days when I softly open the door to check on the kids one last time before I’m off to bed myself, I’ll probably find big brother sleeping near his sister’s bed. The party will be temporarily on pause. These kids of mine are still small, but not at all. Not at all! And I marvel how big they are. That’s all I see. How very big. How it all feels so much bigger than I can even explain. The door clicks closed behind me, and I don’t find myself asking for time to slow down. Or even wishing that it would.

These are the years of sunflowers seeds that must grow and birthday cake sprinkles that land all over the place in glorious color and happy, tedious messes! We let it! The rhythm of motherhood is monotonous and somehow not at all contained! Why would I spend my time wishing when my wishes are growing like weeds already, all over, and so wonderfully! Last year in the hospital, I remember staring at Heidi and becoming emotional thinking of two lives making their way into the world through my body. And now I get to cheer us on–MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY! And come along Time! Come along with us! We want you here. We want to grow!

If the sweetness of a season could last unmoved forever then there goes the joyful burst of spring, cherished warmth of summer afternoon, triumphant autumn rustling its prelude for glad tidings in wintertime…

And if babies always kept, and toddlers never grew, if mothers stayed young forever lost out at sea—crystal clear, sparkling, deep…

Then there goes the chance for lullabies to turn into dragon stories to hideaway in tree forts to grow into their own life stories that pick up somewhere along the way where your old lullabies left off—so much young again somehow…

Wise rocking chair says Grow, creaks ‘this is where it goes’, and I discover I, too, don’t want such sweetness in mason jars.I let the fireflies out, let the time go, the seasons be spent, the oceans be sailed, and all the stories be told.

Back and forth and smiling, the rocking chair and I…

Fireflies and time best held—flying.

-S.V.F. (Rocking Chair & I)

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