A Quiet Minute

She’s staring out the window and telling me about her day. I’m glad that she can’t see my face, glad that she doesn’t know how much my back hurts standing here, glad that she doesn’t see that I’m sad that she has to tell me what she did today even though we’ve not been more than a few metres apart all day, glad that she doesn’t know it’s taking so long because of the pain in my hands. All she knows is this quiet minute, searching for dinosaurs in the overgrown backyard, just her and her mumma, putting her beautiful red hair into plaits before bed.

She bursts into the room only to double back and tap ever so quietly at the door. “Mumma, can I come in? I want to tell you about my dreams.” Come climb up in my bed sweet girl, tell me all about your dreams, tell me everything, anything, snuggle up close, just for a minute, just you and me. I am sorry I’m in bed again, sorry I can’t play, sorry I get grumpy and tired and sick. Let me tell you all my dreams for you for you were all I dreamed of for so long. I ask what she dreamed, and she lists off the same dreams as always. I ask if she has had any new dreams, “No, I just want you.”

She cries out in the night, “Mumma!” I could run a marathon in bare feet to answer that call. She’s burning up and drenched in sweat as I pull her down from the bunk and cradle her to my chest as if she were a much smaller child. “Will you sing me songs?” Tomorrow there will be more pain for lifting her but right now I can only think to soothe her, just me and my big baby singing softly in the dark.

“Mumma, look! It swirls!” She spins around in circles, shrieking in delight as her skirt flares. The loud noise cuts through my head. I wish I didn’t have to shush her, to cut her joy short with my pain. I try to swirl mine to make her smile again, but I get dizzy and drop to the floor. Her face appears, upside down, below mine. I sit up and pull her into my lap, tickling her until she can’t breathe for laughing. I kiss her once on the head, and then a double kiss, and then a triple kiss and then squeeze her and smother her with kisses until she squirms out of my arms, “that’s enough kisses.” She stands with her hands on her hips. There will never be enough kisses sweetheart, just as many as I can fit into this moment with you.

She’s sitting by my feet in the kitchen licking the spoon. It’s been days since I’ve had the energy to cook. “Mmmm, this is my favourite. You’re the best at baking in the world!” I’m writing down the recipe because lately I can’t seem to remember how to cook dishes I invented and have been cooking for 20 years. “You are writing down how to cook so that when I am a mumma I can cook it too!” Yes my darling, and it is my most sincere wish that I can gift to you as many precious minutes with your child as I have had with you. It is in these moments that I have found the strength to carry my burdens, the why behind all that I do, my greatest joy, my deepest pride, my truest love, my dreams come true, my reason to be.