Alive, Afire

Today the air has achieved the coolness of early fall, glassy and fresh without the sharpness of truly cold weather. I remember last year at this time, making trips to Happy Bambino for the Nursing Mamas Resource Station, shuffling along in a daze, in post-operative pain. I remember stepping into the glorious golden light of autumn—maple leaves and ash leaves afire with the season. To breath the air, to become again one of the living, surfacing for a moment from my walking-dead newborn-in-tow state….

How thankful I am for the strength I have gained since last fall, for the beauty bestowed upon my life through my joyful daughter. I remember the pain of those early days, yes, but also I remember that time with fearful gratitude, as one of the difficult gifts that burns us closer toward our true self. In its intensity as a struggle unlike anything else I have experienced or could even fathom, it feels hallowed, sacred.

And as my little girl starts to take her first steps, to become a toddler already!, I cannot help but remember this year of growth (for both my daughter and me) with all my love and all my thanks.

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