From the first moment we glimpse the flicker of some sparkle and passion in our child's eye, that primary foreshadowing of illumination in their spirit and the awakening of some innate desire, some inbred gifting, our own breath quickens as we envision ourselves, their mothers, as the ones who will lead them to discover the hidden treasure that lies within.
We will be the dutiful hands that will carry their dreams - unearthing the earliest seedlings and helping them find fertile soil, and eventually, with great ceremony, releasing them as night lanterns into the breezes of the dark unknowns.
This is our calling and occupation - the carrier of their lights, the nurturers of the embers that will one day burst forth into glorious flame.
Our purpose and pride is founded on such visions; these are the pretentious promises of our daily labor.
Yet, today, in the subtle whispers of an ordinary day, I found myself cradling far more than the imaginations and presuppostions of another year far from now. Within my arms, balanced in the crook of my folded legs, lay a face, warm and silent in sleep. A fever raged, a throat enflamed and I could hold and carry them. I was nurse and companion sufficient, a witness to their dreams and hurts that would never leave them lonely.
This, the trusting, resting of their head and their choice of you to hold them is the promise of now. Tomorrow's dreams will wait, for today's vision is purpose enough.
In 5 Minutes, with Lisa Jo, with a flash mob of writers here.