May Awakes At Last

Somehow it is May already, although the world outside still feels groggy from the late awakening of spring. My niece looks at blossoming trees and tells us that “they are awake now.” We smile at the small moment of wisdom she shares. Children always know more than we think.

June laughs when we step outside into the windy morning. Her hair, fluffy and blond, waves in the breath of the wind; she kicks her feet in joy. Everything is new and exciting at her age: a cat through the dining room window provokes squeals, the sand between her hands is exceptionally funny, passing cars catch her eye, new toys are flipped like children in the arm of the ocean’s wave, the barking of a neighbor’s dog causes pause and locomotive-like huffing, a visiting friend is met with kisses, her baby doll is rocking in a headlock from her over-zealous embrace, Facetime with grandparents and cousins is a game, plants in the greenhouse that hang like stars are gazed upon in awe, the guitar is sung along with new “ba bas” and “la las”, the coffee table has become her jungle gym. All of these small things that pass us by as standard are worthy of her attention. She is happiest in the moments she is given to explore.

A bumble bee passes by me as I sit outside and write this morning. I can hear him before he is seen. It is hard to imagine being so small and working so hard. His wings, in rhythmic excess, are only doing what nature intends.

Last night we walked the neighborhood, me and Sean, with a fevered June tucked tightly against my chest. It was past her bedtime, but the pains of her fever kept her from sleeping. We bundled her warmly against me and paced the sidewalks, hoping the fresh air would tire her weakened body enough to sleep. By the time we arrived home her eyes were heavy, her spirit calmed. I tucked her beneath her quilt and closed her door after kissing her warm head for the night. There is a pain in caring for your sick child that no one can describe. I say a prayer that in the morning she will awaken like the lilacs outside, fresh again.