He cried and I am a sucker. I go back into his room and pick him up. His arms pull me in to him and he lays his head on my shoulder. His sobs stop immediately. I sit down on the rocking chair with him and listen to his breaths slow.
His body is warm and his skin is soft and oily from the lotion I just rubbed all over his tiny body. His head touches my chin, and I can feel how it is still slightly damp from his bath where he giggled at his reflection in the metal faucet.
My arm supports his weight by holding him right under his sweet little bum. His legs are positioned in that way that lets me know even at eighteen months he is still my baby, knees out and toes touching each other.
One of his hands holds a fistful of my hair, while the other lays softly on my arm. His hair is bleached blonde from the sun and his skin slightly toasted from a day at the park.
He is wearing summer pajamas. The ones that are striped white and blue with a bright orange lining.
I softly sing “You are my Sunshine” to him and keep rocking slowly. I hear a few soft snores and hold him tighter.
Stoics practice thinking everything they love will be gone tomorrow, so they can more perfectly enjoy each moment. Instead of assuming they will have to pay for the fact that they just taught their baby that crying brings Mom back in, they practice the essence of minimalism down to the moment. “This is the last moment I may get to hold this baby, so I will hold him and memorize him and love him right now.”
To some that may sound cryptic, but to me it is beautiful.
Writing down the details is one of my most therapeutic and cherished traditions. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July. A holiday made for those perfect moments of pure, easy bliss. During one of these moments tomorrow take a minute to memorize every tiny detail about it. Soak it up like you don’t get a million of beautiful moments. Before you close your eyes that are still twinkling from the magic of fireworks, write it down. Go back to this moment on a day that feels less beautiful. Then, after you read your memory on that less beautiful day remember the stoics and find another memory to treasure.