Tuesday, September 15, 2009

apron strings

Yesterday had a brilliant stretch but ended with some trying bits. Pic and I had a fabulous time walking to the grocery store to pay the power bill (note: I said the walking was good). We walked back home, stopping at both the park and our coffeehouse. I’d thought we wouldn’t spend very long at the park, but I stopped looking at my watch. I watched Pic ‘surf’ down the slide and remembered doing the same myself. We ran barefoot through the thick blades of dark green grass, laughing hysterically. At the coffeehouse, we shared some peach iced tea and tomato soup. She devoured most of a muffin while I ate half of a sandwich and some fantastic salad. I read a set of kids’ books they have there…twice. We built castles with the blocks. We walked home, Pic barefoot still, checked the mail (no great news) and came home. We rested a bit, made dinner, put away clean clothes, ate and read some more.

At one point, while I was washing dishes, Pic came over, her face full of heartbreak, her little lips trembling, tears filling her eyes. I asked her what was wrong and she told me she was sad. ‘When I was in your uterus, I couldn’t see you,’ she told me. I agreed that, no, she couldn’t see me, but I reassured her that she was safe and warm and protected while she was there. I didn’t know how else to respond.

Later, she clung to me, sad, not wanting to leave me for a moment. Getting her to bed tonight was seemingly impossible. I finally went in, in a huge huff, and laid down beside her on the floor. I rubbed her back and head and calmed us both down. She went to sleep after a few minutes of this, after repeatedly coming out of her room and us leading her back in.

I’m not sure what this was about yesterday, but it worries me to see her sad for reasons she can’t always explain. I wouldn’t wish the depression and anxiety I feel on anyone and I really did hope that Pic would be like Cardo emotional- and mental-health wise. Perhaps I’m over-worrying about this (that’s what I do), but I’m worried nonetheless. I don’t remember melancholy setting in until I hit puberty. I could be forgetting.

Here’s to hoping this was just a fluke bit of melancholy.


lotsofglue said...

The fact that you know what she could go thru is an extrodinary plus for her.
And that you answered her question is another plus.

my very first memory is my great grandmother's funeral, 2 months before I was born. I starting talking about the lady with the purple hair and white flowers when I was four. Shocked everyone. To this day I can tell you where people sat in relation to my mom and what they talked about.

Pic might have had a flash or a memory that was difficult for her to understand.