I’m still in my pajamas at noon when the doorbell rings – twice, because it is one of the girls from next door and at five years old, everything is urgent.
Can Lily come out to play?
My daughter stands at the top of the stairs, looking down at the front door. Not today, she says. I’m sick. Maybe next time.
Except, she’s not really sick – I am. And she’s not using it as an excuse, the way grownups sometimes do.
It’s ok, sweetie. You can play if you want to.
As soon as she realizes she’s golden, she runs out of the house with no leggings and no socks. Just charges out the door in a skirt and sneakers and a smile.
Eventually she asks me to bring her bike out, but our street is a hill so we trudge over to the tennis courts next door. A flat surface and a sunny day and we take advantage. Streamers flying and little girls splashing in puddles.
In a quiet moment, in between breaths, a plane flies overhead. Can you take the airplane out of the sky? she asks me.
No sweetie, we just need to wait for it to pass.
And so we stand there for a magic moment, the sunlight and the water and the pause between this second and the next. Watch the plane chart its way across the sky. Let everything feel good and slow before we leap forward again, our hearts beating together, full.