The Dog Days Are Over

I ran a five mile race on Saturday under a cloudless sky while looking out over a perfect seascape. I barely felt the impact of the Long Branch boardwalk beneath my feet. Probably because I was being lifted up by so much support, and I do not just mean from my new sports bra! Bryan and Amanda cheered as I made my first pass while Nori and Charlie waved robotically and then enthusiastically once they recognized that it was me. I spent the next 50 feet trying to run, breathe and cry all at the same time. I just could not get over how much love and gratitude I could feel right down to my bones. Once the tears were gone, I thought about the things that a long run helps to contemplate. Poems, songs, memories-good and bad. I started with Nori’s wave.

I love to look at Nori’s hands. They flutter around with such natural grace that it makes my heart ache. I just think, God that is such a miracle, the way her hands move that way, holding a crayon, feeding her baby dolls, making “hot moly,” a special brew of flower petals, grass and fallen fall leaves. Yesterday I tried to teach her how to use scissors, not expecting success, but just to get in some experience. She stubbornly would not give it up until she had (with my assistance) cut out a square of paper. In her first borrowed library book, Countdown the Cinderella’s Ball, there is a line, “Ten Fingers Touch,” and when Bryan read it to her they touched fingers, which set a precedent for the readings that followed. Every time we read that page, she extends out her elegantly tiny fingers and brushes them with mine.
I love to watch Charlie’s mind work. He sees shapes in places I don’t think to look, creating the lessons I feel like I should be providing. Then I think, “Maybe I taught him that,” and then I realize that I didn’t, but yet somehow he can identify an octagon even when it is not a stop sign. His sense of direction already surpasses mine (which I know is not that hard) but his unprompted narration of familiar routes cracks me up. Our drive from our house to the Gym is landmarked with his backseat commentary: “Haircut, ouchie. Chuck E Cheese. Get Gas. Need Money. The Gym!” I also love the feel of his weight in my lap. If he finds me, or anyone really, seated on the floor with crossed legs, he grabs a book and settles down right in the nook. Much like Bryan, he loves to tease Nori and me, far past the point of funny and right into nudgie. Yet I marvel at his already determined sense of humor.
“I do not doubt God is good, well meaning and kind.” Countee Cullen asks about the things that do not seem to make sense in this world in “Yet Do I Marvel.” So much does not make any sense, but yet there is so much to marvel.