He loves me

I’ve been having some difficulty dealing with the day-to-day recently. Maybe it’s the winter doldrums, I’m not sure. It’s nothing I’m ready to write about yet. But in the midst of my gray days, Charlie’s love sometimes shines through.

On Tuesday, as we sat on the couch reading, Charlie saw the wooden Willow Tree sculpture my sister got me for Christmas two years ago. I haven’t had a chance to put it out until this month. First, because we moved apartments and then because we had no tables or shelves. Over MLK weekend we got some book cases and now we have a few spaces for objets d’arts. The figurine was the first thing I unpacked. It’s a mother holding her child in front of her, their foreheads touching. It looks quite a bit like Charlie and I looked almost every day of his first year, as I held him in the front-facing carrier. The sculpture is beautiful, and the mother and child obviously love each other. (I didn’t realize until I looked for the link that it is appropriately titled “Tenderness.”)

Charlie pointed to the figurine, which I pulled off the shelf for us to examine more closely.

He softly touched the woman’s head. “Mama,” he said, which I thought meant ‘a mama.’ But then he looked up at me and said, “Mama.” It was pretty clear he was saying, ‘you are my mama, a mama like this one.’ One who loves her baby.

He touched the baby’s head. “Charlie,” he said, seeing himself in the sculpture. He could see that he was like that child, cherished.

The wooden mama and baby clearly love each other, and in his own way, Charlie was saying he loves me like that, too.


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One Response to “He loves me”

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