Tonight, Aviva shares the most beautiful image.
“When we make a circle, I picture that it’s a nest and the birds are bringing us our food.”
Then we share the day’s high points and low points over turkey burgers.
Later, Aviva and Pearl sit on my lap as they slurp down their creamsicles. And quietly, without fanfare, Aviva speaks. “This is my dream.”
I know just what she means. If only we could all see our dreams so clearly.
At bedtime, Pearl whispers to me as we rock. “Hot dog, Mama. Pizza. No Bobo muffin. No night night. Hot dog, Mama.”
These moments, glimpses into the minds of my children, surprise me. They wake me up, move me, amaze me, humble me, leave me incredulous even. My children have minds of their own. Imagine that!
My girls, my daughters, the ones I named, now name their own experiences, their own streams of thought, moments of bliss and resistance and evocative imaginings, flashes of unfettered self-awareness, creamsicle dreams.
P.S. There are no accidents. I realized after the fact that I wrote this post on the eve of what was my grandmother’s birthday, April 29. Happy Birthday, Grammy. The Circle of Love goes on.