16 December 2018

things of my heart, one week before christmas.

sunday. forty seven since, and i wonder how long i will keep count. all these sundays later, and it comes to me as easily as if you had asked me my own name. but if by number or if only if by day, i know: this is how i mark time, now.

i have attached the song "temunĂ¡," one of eric whitacre's five hebrew love songs, to this boy of mine a breath away from eleven months old. the song drifting through the house most often when i look up from what am i doing and press to my heart what is playing. it breaks my heart and it fills me up, this song, this motherhood, and i know that when these notes find me in christmases to come, i will once again sit perched on the floor of the nursery,  awash in the marvelous poetry of a little prince busy with stars.

motherhood is nothing if not a deep breath, tripping in my chest, of knowing i am standing in a place i will someday look back on and long for. a place i will never find on a map.


post-edit: i was moved to read the lyrics translated from hebrew, and if you can believe:

a picture is engraved in my heart;
moving between light and darkness: 
a sort of silence envelopes your body,
and your hair falls upon your face just so.

(or, spun gold motherhood moments.)

1 comment:

  1. Oh this is wonderful. Such synchronicity, such serendipity, so much perfect perfect always.