cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The musical score danced in my ears as I remained in the theater seat, soaking in every last note. Salty tears reflected my state of being over the previous two hours while I sat watching Little Women. My thoughts diverted as my mother’s friend approached me. Her smile preceded her question.
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Nearly seven years ago, I lay alone in a hospital bed, cuddling my newborn son on my chest. Although my husband and mother had been present for his birth, complications and illness prevented them from being at the hospital for the first full day of his life. Since we had moved only six months prior…
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He swiftly exited from the building and his eyes darted around until he locked in on mine. Quickly turning, he ran to his teacher and pointed to me. She smiled and waved and released him into my care.
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My five year old and I sat together at the table in his therapist’s office waiting for our play time to begin. His therapist reminded me that we would play for twenty minutes and during the first five minutes she would mark my performance so that she could review with me any areas needing improvment…
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