the sun'll come out....
we celebrate all of this season's holidays, but winter solstice is our big one. we've begun to laud the light by putting up our solstice sun. koruna makes the sun's rays as we count down to solstice. i love these days.
un ano
a year. it's been a year since marvel appeared on this earth. right here in this house. oh lovely day.
i feel like i didn't exist before marvel. and in a way, it is true. i feel like whoever i used to be is gone, replaced by koruna and marvel's mama.
i used to feel like the leading lady in my own life. but as i alternately dance and trudge through early motherhood, i have come to understand that's no longer true. we, the ingrams, are an ensemble cast. i am just as invested in the other characters as i am in myself - often more so. there are moments that i feel exasperated by that, wishing for more time to think my own thoughts or to search for some small glimmer of recognition of who-i-once-was.
but most moments i am simply yet madly in love with our ensemble. our posse. our tribe.
and it is marvel heron ingram - our wondrous one, our treasured son - that completes our tribe.
i love every cell, every moment of him. i love his subtleties and his substance.
and i swear i love this whole damn world more now that he is in it.
room illuminated
marvel's room is still evolving. because it's one of the coldest rooms in the house and i still haven't gotten around to buying or making curtains, we've fastened up a suzani and a quilt to barricade the windows. the light pouring in through the fabrics looks like stained glass - it sometimes takes my breath away. i love nursing marvel there in that quiet glow, watching him fall asleep, letting my mind wander. those moments are the the calmest moments of my day.
that illuminated time and space feels sacred.
unbearable lightness
this morning marvel and i watched the morning sunlight come in through the living room window and illuminate all the fine dust floating in the air (yikes). it was mesmerizing. i tossed him up uP UP in that sparkly beautiful air over and over and caught him as his giggles rained down all over me. this tossing-up-in-the-air thing is one of my favorite daily rituals. it gives me joy to see mars at the peak of the toss in that moment of weightlessness - so light, so buoyant, so trusting. i wish i could leave him there suspended above me, lay down on the ground below, and gaze upon him. how often in the years to come will i wish i could freeze time?
marvel is 5 1/2 months old now. he is big. he's solid.
i realized that i won't be able to toss him around forever, so i threw him until my arms hurt from throwing, my neck hurt from straining, my cheeks hurt from smiling.