The rain falls softly on the grass, gutter dripping on your windowsill – drip, drip, drip. Music playing somewhere in the other room. Bills piled high and emails unanswered, tasks unfinished, dinner a distant thought.
You’ve dozed off in my arms, snoring gently in time with the rain. All at once you’re my tiny baby again. Gone is the toddler learning new words every second and demanding more food, more juice, more dogs.
It’s moments like this that tell me I’ve made the right choice. In an old life I’d be running from meeting to meeting, calling international lines, swearing at my slow computer ruining my life, thinking I was terribly important. Sometimes I miss that old life. I miss knowing I’m doing something right, I miss being told I’m doing a good job, I miss the rush of solving problems on the fly. I miss the heels…
But what I’ve replaced it with will last much longer – nappy changes and cuddles and hide and seek and play doh. Hours spent chasing a ball, even longer spent arguing over meal time and naptime and not sticking fingers into plugs- they’ve probably already forgotten me, what I did, how I did it.
I hope you never will. I hope someday you’ll think back to rainy afternoons cuddled together on the couch and know how blessed we were to have them, how much I loved every second.