I Remember....

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.

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