The moon

I am in a funk. And not the cool kind where you invent dance moves. The bad kind. Where you have forgotten exactly how long it has been since you washed your hair.

Today, I watched three + hours of In Treatment rather than say, uh, write, meditate, stretch, clean, read, cry, draw, make art, exercise...be a productive member of society. The entirety of Beatrice's naptime spent in an uncomfortable chair drinking Pellegrino after Pellegrino, NOT thinking about Lucy, Beatrice, my house, my laundry, my anything. Not appreciating this amazing weather. Just zoning out. Trying to forget my stupid fucking reality.

Just as I finished that sentence, Beatrice ran up to me. "Moon, Mami, moon."
"Moon?"
"Yeah, Mama, the moon. Outside. Come."
And I debated whether or not to go. I really wanted to keep bitching about how blah I feel. I get a ton of requests like this in the evening from my two year old. Repeated. Over and over and over again. Sometimes I feel like such an ass for not jumping up every time, not answering every question, not following every wild goose chase, not doing everything she wants. I want to savor and appreciate every minute with her, but sometimes Mama just needs a break. I am so exhausted from being interested in every thing she does all day. But she said, "Mama, moon. Come."

And I got up off my fat ass and followed her. A little reluctantly, shuffling my feet. And she pointed to the door, and we opened it up. Beatrice in just her little diaper, and me in my jammies. We stepped outside, and she pointed. "Moon."

And it took my breath away. The moon was so incredibly beautiful. Just a sliver in the sky, but bright and big. The stars illuminated all around. The night air warm and welcome. It looked like it was winking, and I thought of Lucy, and Beatrice.

"Thank you, Beatrice, for sharing the moon."
"Pretty, mama."
"Yes, love, it is beautiful."

I am humbled by the moments when I am present, and ashamed of the moments I have missed.