A Letter to The Girl That Loves Amos
Everyone deserves to be adored and my Amos has had his fair share of admirers. Most are from afar and he gives little notice to those that crow for his attention. I am likely his biggest fan and because he depends on me to interpret his expressions or utterances for food and water or the movie Cars and his blankie, he greets me quite cheerfully. While I adore being the object of his affection, I can't help but wonder will it always just be me? That feels like a lot of pressure somehow. After all, I signed up to be the Mama but somehow I thought there was a time limit but perhaps not. Forever is a long time.
The future should seem far away yet it always beckons me, every day I read subtle reminders and the cues that whirl around me. As much as I try to hide behind my blinders, I can't encapsulate myself in a bubble. I have three other children after all and we have to embrace each day joyfully, which means we meet friends at the pool, go out to dinner, walk a local boardwalk eating ice cream, and caravan with full arms to the beach only to have Amos plop in my lap, his blankie covering his face from the bright sun. I sit prisoner, unable to even set up the umbrella. I am his safety net and while the other toddlers are eager to explore, dig and build and play, Amos observes wearily or not at all, my lap his virtual security blanket.
After a while, he does venture to play with others, particularly his siblings, and occasionally other children his age. He moves slowly though and deliberately and his peers are off and running, fast forward to his slow motion. He is happy to swing or play in the sandbox and swimming has been his favorite activity lately. He is weary of the ocean though and even when the waves are nonexistent, he is timid to walk into the great unknown. If he can't see the bottom, then his mind reads danger. Nothing can dissuade him from this fear and so, we find ourselves back with his blankie, perched on a beach chair, me watching and Amos hiding his face.
I can't avoid what I see clouding my line of vision. How can I ignore the busy sturdy little people pushing dump trucks, building castles and squealing as they jump waves or clutch newly found sand fiddlers? Do you see how my mind wanders to the future? Today is becoming tomorrow as I sit and snuggle my little person, the person that may always love his mama the most of any girl in the world. For now though, I have company.
I welcome the love and adoration from a little girl named Cecelia. She thinks Amos has hung the moon and it warms my heart to see her love and adoration for him. Though he seems oblivious to her for the most part, he does not avoid her which for him is a positive sign.He has warmed to her over the last year and I have seen his quick smile with recognition upon seeing her at church or for their weekly play days.
Thank you Cecelia for loving Amos as much as I do. Thank you for making me feel that he is safe with your love and thank you for admiring him, regardless of his silence. Your happy eyes and squeals of delight when he arrives to play do not go unnoticed by me, even if he seems oblivious. You have made a mother happy today and I will try to remember that the future is far away, but today is lovely. Thank you, Cecelia.