Thursday, May 26, 2011

Butterfly Magic

Today is my son's bridging ceremony.

It's a Montessori celebration of transitioning from one year of learning to the next, similar to a kindergarten graduation.

The year has flown by. As a matter of fact, the past six and half years have flown by. I don't think about it often. I don't have time. As my child's sole parent, the days fly by at speed of light, or speed of childhood, I should say. I used to be able to have my son asleep by seven o'clock each evening. Now I'm lucky if we're able to slow down the day enough by seven so that he can be asleep by nine.

There is just so much to do, and so little time to do it. The magic of childhood is flying past just like the butterflies that seem to always be attracted to my son, landing on him while we're playing in the yard or while he's riding his bike. He used to be amazed by this occurence, now it's so normal he'll usually just call out, "Mama, there's another butterfly on me!"

I smile, because I want so much for this boy, and I carry on my shoulders every day the weight of being the only person who can provide it. But I did not provide the magic of having butterflies land on him, so much that he's used to it. That's something that came to him from somewhere else. Perhaps it's a magic all children possess, I don't know. My only experience is with this child.

I bought him a small turtle sculpture for his bridging gift. It's carved from wood, and it's an adult turtle with a smaller turtle on it's back. I didn't even think about it when I picked it out. My son was with me, as always, when I was in the shop, and I was trying to purchase it without him seeing. It was only later, when I was wrapping it up, that I noticed the symbolism of a larger turtle carrying a smaller one. I practiced attachment parenting, which means I carried my son for quite some time, in a large sling on my hip, and I loved every minute of it.

He's much to big for that now, of course. He's almost too big to even sit on my lap. I'll blink my eyes one day soon, and like the butterflies that love him, he'll simply fly away.

But I hope that, where ever he lands in life, it will be some wonderful place that my love helped carry him to.

1 comment:

Virginia ("Ginn") said...

Flying away comes all too soon. Kalil Gibrahn has a lovely poem about how our chidren are the arrows that fly from the archer's bow. Mothering is wonderful, but it takes strength to allow your child to be of the world, to encourage them to grow up and away from their cozy nest. Lovely post.
Avoiding the Tasks at Hand