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Archive for June, 2015

I’ve had unexplainable things happen to me all of my life. I won’t go into details because I don’t know what to make of much of it, only that I’ve seen, heard, and felt things that I can’t explain away through any reasonable means, as have many other logical people. This week, I’m finding an strange number of dimes in odd places. Not pennies, nickels, quarters, or any other coins (dollar coins would be nice), just dimes. On the floor next to my desk. Right in front of the garage. On the floor while cleaning out my classroom.

After my third or fourth one in the last few days, I did a little research and while most of what I found was hooey, I’ve found that this is not unusual. Many people out there have been getting mysterious dimes for years. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Could it be simply random dimes have fallen out of several pockets in the last few days? Definitely, but the sudden windfall makes me curious. I’ll let you know if my lucky streak continues. Or if I have a hole in my purse.

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Dear Child (Any particular one),

There are things that I’m thinking about when I look at you and you say, “What?”. Here’s some insight as to what may be running through my mind. You see, memories from when you were very new stay with me, and I love to go back and revisit the flashes of you that I still see today.

Things like:

– Taking a pregnancy test to prove your father wrong, happily finding out that it was me who was wrong.

– Going to the doctor because I thought I broke a rib riding horseback, only to find out I would be a mama.

– Taking a pregnancy test because The Wizard of Oz made me sob.

– The secret, flutterby, kicks that made me smile.

-The never-ending waiting for you to be born. Christmas doesn’t hold a candle to a due date.

– Tiny. So, so, very tiny.

– Baby sighs and phantom smiles in your sleep.

– Those baby giggles when I pretended to sneeze.

– The absolute contentment when you would fall asleep on my chest, warm and cozy.

– Baby feet.

– The smell of your baby skin. Intoxicating.

– The way you wanted only me, reaching your chubby little arms out, saying, “Mama!”

– The protective instinct. I could quite easily kill anyone who hurt you, even now.

– Picking you up from preschool. You were so happy to see me, unashamed to hug me as tight as you could and tell me all about your day.

– The first time another kid rejected you. I never wanted to hit a 7-year-old before. (Just to clarify, I would never hit a 7-year-old.)

– The joy of your joy, whether it was a bug friend, a song you sang to me, or a baby lamb, the sight of you deliriously happy was my whole world.

-You sleeping in a fuzzy blanket, dark lashes on pale cheeks.

-The three of you on the couch arms and legs entwined like a pile of puppies while watching tv.

– The ache of watching you become more independent, knowing that every accomplishment takes you a small step away from me, but knowing that it is meant to be.

So when you catch me staring at you, with a funny look on my face, chances are something like these thoughts are racing through my brain. It’s because I love you. I love who you are, I love who you were, and I love who you are becoming.

Mama

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