Sunday Walk

Her little hand in mine, we set out together
Her yellow flip flops slapping against the sidewalk
She says we are on a walking date
Just the two of us
We giggle
She stops every few feet or so
To point out the color of a flower
Or an abandoned snail shell
Or an interesting looking bug
Together we drink in Spring
Drink hungrily with our eyes
The vivid purples and pinks and reds of the tulips
Drink deeply smelling the sweet flowering blooms
Arching above us in extravagant sprays
We drink in the sunlight and the green and the crispness in the air
A thirst born from wandering too long
In a wintery desert
We touch a plant that I have always called Rabbit's Ear
Though I've no idea if that is it's real name
She says "Hello!" and "Good morning!" and "Hi there!"
To the woman pulling weeds, the family on their bikes, a man running
I smile to myself
My trusting, friendly girl
My first baby as she has taken to calling herself lately
I wonder inside of myself with a love that is so intense it's almost painful
That this beautiful being is my daughter
That what she wants and needs most from me
Is to simply be with me
To talk, to laugh, to touch
Through her curious eyes I see the goodness
The mystery, the blinding beauty of the world
I pray that she will always hold that same sense of hope
About others, about the world within herself
She kisses the palm of my hand and indicates
That I should then press it to my cheek
She got this from a book she has read in pre-school
I know what is coming and I smile in anticipation
She looks at me with those clear blue green eyes and says
"Whenever we are apart, you can put your palm to your cheek, Mom
And it will be as if I'm kissing you.  And you say to yourself
Ava loves me.  Ava loves me."
I press my fingers to her sun warmed hair
Look at her face trying to fix this moment in my memory
To save for the years to come when she won't be five years old
When her faith in the world and in my omnipotence wanes
The bittersweet irony of motherhood is this
You try to equip your children with the tools they will need
For the life they will live out there on their own
Pushing them forward
While desperately grasping at these little moments in time
Bright hot sparks of their childhood
Holding them to your heart in an effort to dull the ache
Of the knowledge that what you've brought into this world
Will leave you one day as is only right, only natural
We walk back home the way we started out
Her hand in mine
My heart in her hands

- Denise Cooper Smith -