Sunday, 1 May 2016
She has a cold.
Her mini sneezes and tiny coughs make me scoop her up into my arms and hold her tightly. She wriggles away and jumps down to start the wonderful new game of catch-me-if-you-can. She stares at me with her glistening brown eyes and makes me chuckle – they have mischief in them.
Another little sneeze.
And so we begin. It’s a race to see who can reach her stuffed toy first. She flies across the room and I join her a couple of seconds later. She bites into it tightly and pulls away with all her might. I tug, she tugs harder. Her face screws up, lost in the absolute joy of living in the moment.
We lounge in the garden with the sun on our faces. Basking in the warmth, I momentarily forget about my yearning heart.
And at the end of a long day, she curls up on the sofa and I watch her drift off into a deep sleep. Her breathing slows and I hope that she shortly has one of her dreams again: the dream in which she chases her friend Cotton across the common, sending her legs wildly paddling the air.
She teaches me to take every day as it comes. She shows me the importance of being light with life. And through her I see that, by having an open heart and willingness to carry on regardless, even the most painful days will eventually transform into something most beautiful.