I remember the dream fulfilled. Though I have no
memory {no conscious memory} of the
dreaming.
I remember that in those first moments alone with the
brand-new-you, I too was made new.
I remember meeting your tiny feet, and knowing them as my
own.
I remember the white of the sheets and your cottony soft
swaddle.
I remember the quiet. And the morning light filtering
through the hospital blinds.
I remember your wide awake eyes that seemed to listen and
speak all at once…and that seemed
bigger to me than half your little face. On that first, quiet morning
your eyes invited me in to stay.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember your early words and first
steps, ever cautious, always clear and steady.
I remember the joy of walking with your
tiny hand in mine.
I remember our face game. We’d sit for hours and mirror
each other – starting with the “Oh” face, we’d move through happy and silly and
sad and mad…always ending with kisses.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember when we met your brother. He was as noisy and
restless as your were quiet and still.
I remember his cries, his chatter, his bumps and his
bruises.
I remember watching you teach him. Anything. Everything.
I remember that the Little Mermaid grew into Dorothé, that
Pooh grew into Power Rangers and that they all turned into FRIENDS.
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember family dinners and holidays
and devotionals and airplane trips.
I remember moving. A lot. And knowing that wherever we
landed the four of us would always be there. Together.
I remember that church was “all that” and school was….well
it just was.
I remember feeding friends, and driving friends, and
finding friends sleeping on our couches.
Mostly, I remember loving all the friends and
the activity that came with them!
I remember the dream fulfilled.
I remember first cameras, first
trophies, first loves, first cars and first jobs.
I remember when you fit in, when you
didn’t. When you cared. And when you didn’t.
I remember when I realized that you and your brother would
always be best friends and
I remember when he stood next to you at your wedding.
I remember my early, Barbie playing days. The made
up future me loved fashion, boyfriends, and her career. But never once was
there a husband or any children. I didn’t know to dream of that. To dream of
you.
I remember discovering my sweetest dream in its
living – grateful that the keeper of dreams knew my heart better than I knew it
myself.
I remember, and live, this dream fulfilled.
This piece first published as my "Writing Me" contribution
for Bigger Picture Blogs.
Please visit them....
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