Sitting on the couch

holding handsOur ever-baby is our joy made tangible. All that is luminous and good reside in her. 

And she is funny.  I mean, really, really funny. She makes me laugh out loud, often, true overflowing joy.  As she has mastered speaking, she has mastered wit and tone. (Exhibit A: When faced with AJ’s burnt toast, she says, straight faced, ‘That’s a catastrophe daddy’.)

But when she is sick, she is miserable. When she is sick everything is dull and tiresome. 

And our littlest one has been sick these last few days.

I have spent most of the last three days on the couch, a little girl’s body wrapped around my legs and arms. ‘Mummy stay here’, has been her sad lament. Whenever I have jumped up to answer the phone or make a cup of tea, ‘Mummy stay here’, has followed me. 

I am unused to being needed for my presence alone. Needed purely because I am. It is sweet and humbling to be necessary to a sick little girl.   

There is purity and simplicity in her gentle need just to be next to me.

There is also holiness. For this is what life has become, and it is truly life at its most raw and simple. There is a willing exchange of the deepest parts of who we are, and we do it gladly, without fear or suspicion.

This little girl is teaching me of life in abundance, she has taught me that there is richness and beauty to be found by just sitting on the couch.

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