Last week was my annual 5th grade outdoor education retreat. I wrote this post while I was away from my family, thinking about what I was missing about my children.
I miss Ethan's hands.
Ethan’s hands are small compared to mine, but they seem large compared to his body. These hands are tools that he uses to explore the world. Only through concentration can he get his hands to complete tasks like putting on his shoes. These efforts can bring about frustration and often can bring him satisfaction.
Taking off his socks and outing on a new pair takes time and effort. His hands work carefully and slowly. The movement sometimes seems clumsy but the persistence of this work is focused and careful.
When Ethan wakes up early in the morning and I bring him into my bed to calm him down his hand seek me out in the dark. Ethan feels for something to hold onto. Something real and warm. A shirt collar simply isn’t enough. He scratches at my throat trying to feel something to be closer. As I wince in pain, I push his hands away and Ethan moves his hands down my shirt to my chest.
Ethan’s hand relaxes open and I feel his palm against my chest. His hand presses gently against my chest as it rises up and down. Ethan’s body finally relaxes and he cuddles closer to me in the darkness.
I miss Ollie’s eyes.
In his eyes Ollie shows me that I matter.
In moments of frustration, while his face tenses up like a fist, his eyes plead to me. He wants to watch one more episode of that show, or that piece of candy, but there’s more. Behind his eyes he wants guidance, clarity and a better understanding through the swirl of emotions that are filling his mind.
When Ollie smiles and looks at me his eyes are searching for a connection. Even at this young age, Ollie understands that true joy is in sharing. Happiness confirmed through through bright eyes are an affirmation and permission to feel deeper.
Other times Ollie’s eyes reach out to me like a hand. Sometimes it’s a hand that needs help, like a silent plea of “daddy,” when Ollie is suck in a place physically or inside his mind. There are times when his eyes reach out to help me up. Ollie is very empathetic and wants me to feel better when I’m sad. When I’m upset, his eyes tell me it’s okay.
In the quiet moments, looking into his kind eyes, I pause, and find a calm through the invitation of his gaze.
Ollie’s eyes make me feel loved, feel important and feel that my life has meaning.
I hope that he feels the same when he looks into my eyes.
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