And There We Sit

My Child And I

This has been an emotional, crazy week - one of those mixes of joy and anxiety where work seems endless, the dryer decides to die, the car breaks down, but at the same time we celebrate successes and it leaves us drained and in wonder and in awe.

In a rare quiet moment, I’m sitting on my bed taking a break when Little Bean comes into the bedroom and says, “Watcha doing?”

“Relaxing,” I say.

She nods and then I remember I have something. I have a little midnight snack, a packet of roasted sea salt seaweed wrappers. Yes, I know, I know, but she loves these things.

Her eyes grow wide when I show her and she hops up onto the bed and crosses her legs.

And there we sit, my child and I, as the day fades and we droop together, feasting on seaweed, not saying much, making a mess, just being next to each other. I shove all that other stuff out of my mind because I only want these few particular seconds to exist in my head.

But soon enough there’s a commotion in the kitchen as my wife returns from walking Pip and the dog bee-lines the bedroom and creates a big fuss and an even bigger mess having just come in with mud on his face.

My daughter screams and laughs and bounds down after the dog and the chaos - the normal, everyday madness - returns to our space. I sit for a couple seconds longer, relishing the quiet of the last few minutes then throw myself back into the whirlwind.

I am the whirlwind. We are the chaos. That’s us, that’s our life. And that’s ok.