Wednesday Mornings, Itty Bitty Spiders and Random Hugs

By | May 19, 2011

I am walking home with Sasha from Tony’s school. It is 9am and the morning is a big sparkling diamond. “Let’s walk home this way, Mom.” Sasha points to a street with a tree that looks like a red shredded umbrella with pink flowers all over. He loves that tree. He loves flowers and leaves and twigs. Every day I get them as gifts.

When we don’t have to hurry Sasha discovers an entire world of wonders. We walk up the street, pass the red umbrella tree and stop in front of a carpet of big leaves. They have dew on them, perfect little clear spheres of liquid life. Sasha is mesmerized by them, and I am mesmerized by him. I wish he’ll never lose that sense of wonder. He doesn’t touch the dew, too precious.

A few seconds later he makes the cutest little sound while crouching to see something under a leaf. “Mom, this is the tiniest I’ve ever seen.” It most likely is. A spider. So very small. Yet still, it has its own web. So delicate. Sasha’s eyes are big and round and happy. No gift in the world can replace this.

Time to wonder. Time to be silent and happy. Time to have Mom and that diamond of a morning all to himself.

His little hand slips into mine and we walk uphill. We talk about spider webs and questions are bubbling up so quick he’s almost short of breath. I pick him up. His arms wrap around my neck and his head rests on my shoulder. A big smile inundates his face. “You just picked me up randomly, Mom, I love that.” He’s learned quite a few big words from books and stories on tape lately, randomly is one of them.
There is nothing in the world to replace this. Time to hug my growing baby. Time to feel his head on my shoulder and his breath on my neck like the warm flutter of an invisible butterfly. A random butterfly hug that fills my eyes with tiny spheres of liquid happiness.
The sun envies the warmth of our hug. I would too.

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