Baby’s birthday today. One year she has been with us. And we’ve been parents for one year. What a massive transformation in our lives!
I took her for a walk this afternoon. It was getting near naptime and she was fussy, but as we strolled she showed no signs of sleep. We went down a lovely walkway with big cement mosaic fruit. Baby was pointing, pointing, so I stopped and lifted her up. She looked. She pointed. I told her what the colours were. We compared smooth and rough. She seemed afraid to touch the peach pit, which was rough and uneven, but was happy to touch the smooth apple seeds.
After a while she was ready to hit the ground. We walked up and down, back and forth, my back slowly getting more and more sore. Then we wandered behind the walkway where there was dirt, grass, big trees, leaves, roots. She walked up the incline to the base of the tree, then ran down, me following. Again and again. Then further into the leaves.
Then it was time to sit. She started sifting through the debris on the ground. Leaves, needles (pine, not medical), cones, dirt, rocks. Sifting turned to lifting turned to playing, swirling, loving. She was absorbed in this new world.
And I was thinking – a bit – about my back, the time, and a few stops I wanted to make on the way home. Crafts, magazines, stuff stuff stuff go go go.
And then I stopped. It is my daughter’s birthday! It is her day! Okay, it’s my day too, but it is definitely significantly her day. Nothing I want to do needs to be done. What needs to happen is to be here with my girl, playing in the dirt, grabbing the rocks before they get to her mouth, laughing, pointing out the noisy crow, getting some time in nature that we don’t get to very often.