threads

the moments that tie us together

Tender Mornings is a free newsletter. If you want to support this space and my writing, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and/or sharing excerpts of this publication with a friend. Thank you for being here. ♡

---

“I wait for you, you wait for me, always, to return safely and perhaps that is all we ever really need love to be—waiting for each other to return home safely.”

— Ella Frances Sanders

There is a comfort I find in the domestic. When I rise so early that the moon has not yet parted the sun. The only sign of morning comes through the light slivers in the dark of their lingering embrace. Standing in the kitchen watching the drip of the espresso swirling into a mason jar filled with ice and whole milk. The eggs are boiling on the stovetop. Slices of brie cheese arranged on a platter with banana and blueberries. My daughter is telling me about a recurring dream she has. The one where there is a baby cow wearing a coat. I stare down into her blue eyes in disbelief. Her face is the most beautiful I have ever seen. Her stories are the most interesting.

Her only desire is to spend the morning watching horses so we head to a grassy spot with a good view in the park. She sits in my lap as we watch each one go by. Making commentary on their decorated carriages and singing out excitedly when she notices one wearing a hat. I drink iced coffee and tear off pieces of a croissant to share as we wave to the tourists. Letting the flakes fall carelessly over our floral sun dresses as the buttery grease kisses the tips of our chins.

We lay in the grass side by side. Heads tilted together as we look up towards the sun's glistening rays winking between each moving branch. There is a cacophony of sounds but I only hear the mockingbird singing her collection of lullabies. The day is lush with green and laughter. I am so happy. I could stay here. In this one moment. Forever. 

Everything these days feels like a need. With an urgent, passionate voice, she pleads out, “I NEED moot (milk), I NEED wawa rocks (throwing stones in the creek), I NEED Fiadh (her friend), I NEED cookie (this time with a sheepish smile. Nice try).” In response, I ask, “Do you need or want?” Then contemplate our needs and wants. Sometimes, I do feel an intense need to go for a walk, to eat a treat or see a friend. Don’t we all feel a deep need for the comforts that make us feel at home? 

At home the garden is blooming tucked among beds of bluets, red clover, dandelions and other green neighbors I have yet to learn the names of. My husband and daughter kneel into the soil and tenderly pull peeking red radishes up from the earth. When they return, she shows me her harvest and bites into the spicy root. Then lifts it up towards me. Smiling proud. 

When she spots a flower, she isn’t satisfied with knowing just the name. She wants to know what makes up this buttercup. “Mama, what?” She asks at each part. Then carefully she repeats: stem, petal, stamen. 

Up on a serviceberry tree, directly above my head, sit two starlings, looking down at me. They are so close that if I reached up my arm I could gently touch their slick bluish green and black feathers. I stare up, mouth open, amused and grateful. Instead of fleeing, they go on doing what they do best—nibbling plump, red fruit off the stem. Swallowing each berry in one swift gulp. 

In the creek, little deep, she stands hand in hand with her father. Cold water up to her knees. When she spots a frog, she crouches down low to see it. Inspecting its little cave made out of twigs, stone and moss. I lean forward instinctively to hold him. Wanting to give her a closer look. As my hands begin to move, she quickly says. “No!” Instructing me to leave the critter alone. Reminding me that I am not entitled to pick him up. We watch silently as he hops and ribbits. “Night, night frog!” she sings out when finally it is time to leave.

Sitting on the couch, legs dangled atop one another, I tell my husband that I think we’ve been together in many lifetimes. He says he believes that we’re only given this one. We decide that both ideas are equally probable and either way, we feel grateful to have found each other. Be it luck, or fate or a thread tied from a past life, to this one and into the next. 

What a miracle to get to step into one more day, one more breath. 

To dance daily under the choreography of passing seasons, orbiting stars, changing moons.