I may be cresting that cusp sooner than I’d anticipated.
Remember this? I was astounded when I didn’t receive an interview in response to my job query. I just received a very lovely email letting me know that they’d put out the job listing because they were so busy, but because they were so busy, they’d not been able to look at the applicants until now. And my letter was “intriguing,” and am I still available?
Let’s not sugarcoat this: I’ll still have ample opportunity to fall on my face. It’s not time to count chickens (or as Chickadee says, “count Chickadees! HAHAHAHA!”). But it’s a step. It’s a piece of the puzzle that puts me back together, reminds me that I do have something to offer that the right people are going to recognize. Eventually.
This morning I warned the kids that I’m still not feeling well, and they were remarkably good for me. They asked if they could finally break the wishbone we’ve been saving since my parents’ visit; I said sure. I explained the process and lined up their little fingers and commanded them to hold their wishes in their minds. Both little faces screwed up tight with the effort… I counted to three… they pulled… and Chickadee won. Monkey began to cry. Before I could intervene, Chickadee had pulled his head to her chest and was stroking his hair, crooning, “It’s okay, buddy, do you want your wish? You can have it. I don’t need mine.” She kissed away his tears and then whispered in his ear. Before I could hide the tears that had sprung to my eyes, he’d clambered up onto her, piggyback, and they were off, giggling “giddyup, horsey!”
Sometimes I think I’m parenting all wrong, and then sometimes my children take my breath away. Especially Chickadee. The child who was once so broken is now the most nurturing soul I know. If she can be so transformed, how can any of us say “I can’t”?
I’m hoping again. I’m dreaming again. I’m trusting myself. It’s so much easier to assume the worst and stop wanting. I’d nearly forgotten what it feels like to feel possible. Sure, I’m just darting out to touch it, briefly, and then running back to my familiar haven of disappointment and resignation… but I’m developing a taste for more.
I’m waking up.