the morning that was

I look around and see the remnants of the morning that was. The last tower still standing without being toppled, an empty toy basket ready for her to get into and the cardboard box and lids that have provided so much amusement since we found them. I had a moment of clarity this morning as we walked in the wagon up and down the street, the rendition of Baby Beluga growing tired, the huge maple leaf waving in her hand. This is really what its all about. A crisp fall day and a walk. There are times I miss the hustle and bustle of office work life. I miss the camaraderie, the challenge, the work and even the complaining about work. But on days like this, walking and singing with my daughter seems like the only thing I was ever meant to do. Now as she sleeps, I flip through a magazine, sit for a quiet lunch. The dishes are still piling up and the toys aren’t going to walk themselves back into the basket. Maybe in a Disney movie they would. I see her handprints on the walls and think of how my husband will irk at their sight. He’ll want to wash them and all I want to do is look at them and wonder how her hands got so dirty. And during her nap, I take a deep breath, look at the path of toys, books and shredded magazines she’s left behind, and I miss her. This afternoon holds promise of new adventures. Well not really new, we do almost the same thing each day. A tickle, a laugh, some snacks to eat, some milk to drink. Maybe a swing in the park. Will she even remember these times we spend together? Likely not. But I certainly will. Every moment that passes she gets bigger, smarter, older. I’ll always try to remember these days of the huge maple leaf in the fall, my mixed up words of Baby Beluga, the calls to go up, out, and down. I’ll cherish each moment we spend together and look back at the hundreds of photos I’ve taken, the fingerprints on the walls and the big brown eyes of my first baby.