In the mornings when the clouds hang low and the sun stays hidden, June and I sit on the couch together, so close that we could still be connected as we once were. I often forget about those days with June: when she was only an idea in my mind and a beating heart beneath my lungs. For months we thought she was a little boy. I would press my hand upon my belly calling her “Milo” or “Sam” or a handful of other boy names we were trying to choose between. But all along she was our June. I should have known. Thankfully, my mother’s instinct has improved since those days.
Mother’s Day found me showered with love and kindness from my husband, who always speaks the words I need to hear (even if the day is not devoted to me). On Mother’s Day and every day I am grateful that he married me.
June sits beside me now, her hand upon my stomach as the laptop sits on my legs. We have had several busy days in a row and it feels good to relish in the calm of the morning. A cartoon cat appears on the television which causes her to sit up and yell, “cat!” I love that such commonplace things cause such large reactions from her. The smallest people are always able to see the most beauty it seems.
As her show finishes, I remember the words of my yoga instructor this morning, encouraging us to “Root down and rise up” and I make them my mantra for the day. In all things, mindfulness matters. And so June and I begin this day in May, fresh and happy and best of all, together.