sunlight as panacea

Have I mentioned that before, that my child is a super genius? In case I haven't you should know that she is. For a 14-month old child she has a whopping vocabulary, saying or signing I figure around a hundred words or more. She learns about 2 words a day nowadays and it is a wondrous thing to behold, watching a person come to life. I can tell she loves words and it thrills me, as a lover of the bon mot myself. I sat and watched her for 10 minutes yesterday reading Eric Carle's Hungry Caterpillar book to herself, it was completely adorable, as is almost everything she (and, ok, most one year olds) does.

I am thankful for these moments of joy and wonder while she is still wholeheartedly mine, while I can still hold all of her in my arms and cuddle her close and smell the sun warm in her hair. I know every day she is slipping a little away from me, making her own way in the world and I cannot keep her small and innocent and protected forever, no matter how hard I might try. I want her to live and discover, but I admit I hate the bruises that come with it all. I know I should be seeing it all as a pithy metaphor for the disaster we're living right now with the whole house thing. Only we could put our house up for sale the minute the Vancouver housing market takes a turn for the worse...it has screwed us to a degree I had thought previously unimaginable and I am trying my level best not to take a powder on my whole life; pack up my child and run away and live somewhere simpler and walk away from the mess. Naturally it is not so simple and I know that, but the universe has not been kind of late - although really, we are all fine and that should be enough...but somehow it isn't.

I know that this is life. We chose a different path and that path is a riot of beauty and pain. We did not choose a life that would guarantee us stability and safety and so we pay for it fairly often. Ah, but when it's good, it's oh so good, but it seems it's been so long since it was good that I am growing tired in the face of it. The only thing that keeps me focused and relatively sane is Nahanni and the quiet joy of being her mother, thick and thin. I love to watch her, I really do. Last night Ez was late on the river and stayed there and I let her stay up late and we danced to wild loud music and we ate with our fingers and I let her make a hilarious mess with corn on the cob and we told stories and looked at pictures and I caught her in the night air, naked skin in the breeze, golden sun in her hair and it was a beautiful thing. For all those hours I simply forgot, and perhaps, for now, that is enough.