An Autumn when you are one.
Life lately has been fast, fast, fast while simultaneously all the slow. Slow mornings at home, slow walks around the park, days full of nothing and everything all at the same time. But the speed, the speed comes from nap time typing and plotting, evenings working and weekends at courses. Next thing, next thing, next thing.
But you, you are my consciousness, intention and mindfulness practice. You are my reminder to stay in the present. You are my reminder to stop, slow down, hide that phone away. I breathe. Do you ever look down at this little being, when you’ve stopped rushing around, and suddenly remember that oh, this tiny person is a person with a personality and that face you love and those breathy sighs that instantly calm on the increasingly rare occasions she falls asleep on you.
This is a testament to that. A snapshot. A moment in our lives I never what to forget. An Autumn when you are one.
An Autumn where we scrabble around park floors together, picking up leaves. You turn them over, inspect them, and then pass them to me. One for the collection.
An Autumn where you found your voice. Dissatisfaction coloured your tone, and refusal was a new contender. I love it because it is you, and difficult, and you have a voice that you use.
An Autumn where you found words. “Ball”, “Mumma”, “Dadda”, “Gone”, “More” and, your dad’s favourite, “Poo”. More words come every day, names and words and people now stumble off your tongue in just the sweetest of voices. You love to speak on the phone, a “hello” followed by gobbledegook while you wander round gesturing wildly. My little mimic.
An Autumn where we stay inside and light candles and read books. Books passed into waiting hands over and over. Saying “more, more” with impatience as I turn the pages not fast enough for you. Book after book after book. Sometimes a page or two and then you shut it and wander off for another. Sometimes an entire book, until it ends and we must read it again. Nights where you wake at 3 am demanding a book be read. Admittedly, my patience doesn’t stretch to giving in to that one.
An Autumn where it was cold, then hot, then cold again. I love seeing you, bundled up in wool and hats and waterproofs, wander round on little legs and point out the things that interest you. Name the ducks and then toddle off to the swings, your own agenda at work.
An Autumn where you became a complete Daddy’s Girl, wanting nothing more than him, shrieks of delight as you hear the key turn in the door. Mummy became a milk source and your daytime babysitter, but Daddy…
An Autumn where we created magic, for hopefully years to come. Books and nature tables, things we will get out year, on year, on year, and delight as we remember that Autumn, the one when you were one.