It seems that my writing is always penned around these moments of seeming unconsequence that bring tears to my eyes for the silliest reasons. Tonight my 3 year old and I went to Toopy and Binoo. If you google them they'll point you to Treehouse and explain to you that they are a lovable cat and mouse duo that use their imagination. Many people think they're derranged or "freaky" and I struggle with how someone can judge so negatively the way they branch out and envision. They've been a favourite in our household for a long time. And today we saw them live and in person.. and if the tickets had cost us a million dollars, it would have been worth it to watch my daughter be so still, so enthralled, so there... They sang and danced for 90 minutes and through it all I found myself having to wipe my eyes... it struck me at just how richly I am blessed and it's no longer just about my moments... I was now part of her moments... her important parts of her young life... the things that matter to her, right now, in this place.
I couldn't help but think of my life and those who are a part of it... those within reach, or just standing on the edge, and how they move in and out. There is a kid, a 17 year old that I know. He's a good kid. Works hard in all parts, drinks some beer, but keeps it together. His mom died last fall after a 6 year battle with ovarian cancer and this was the first Christmas he went through without her. His dad works out of town is only home about five days per month and his older brother lives in the city, so this kid, for all intense purposes, is on his own. One night during a snowstorm he was on his way home from work and I asked him to call me to let me know that he made it. He gave me a funny look, said that he would, and prompty left. An hour later I got a text message that said he made it... and that I was the first one to worry about him making it home since his mom passed away and that it meant more to him then he could ever explain. And I thought about him today as I held my little girl... and as my heart swelled at how glad I was to be where I was, I couldn't help but think that if I were ever to have to leave this spot earlier than planned, I would hope that someone worried about whether or not the treasure sitting on my lap made it home too. Because she is the most perfect her and utterly irreplacable.
The closing line of today's program said Sing it loud and clear because every song is perfect. And today not only was my song perfect, the harmony provided by my kid moved mountains.