I never seem to have an Â umbrella handy when the weather warrants the use of one, but I sincerely think that umbrellas are overrated. It’s very uncommon that I am in need of protection from the elements (at least rain) since I rarely dress up and my hair is styled in such a manner that it always looks the same regardless of it being wet or dry. As long as I have a rubber band to pull it back, I’m good.
I don’t mind walking in the rain. In fact, I love it. Especially summer rain. I remember my younger years vividly, walking around my neighborhood (Kirkersville, Ohio) during the summer months. I always wore shoes, well, because I was freaked out by feet (see the “Wiggle Your Toes Day” post) plus the asphalt was so stinking hot. The tar they used to patch the potholes would bubble up into blisters in the heat. Then the rain would come, which mandated the discarding of shoes so I could splash in the puddles. Wonderful, warm puddle water. And squishing the ooey-gooey tar bubbles between my toes. What a comforting memory.
I’m a water baby when it comes right down to it. My skin, unfortunately, isn’t a fan of the sun, but I like being in, on, and around water – as long as it’s not a beach. I don’t like sand. But I love to sail and canoe and row and swim and fish and skip rocks. And I love to watch rain hit the water.
I don’t need no stinkin’ umbrella.
I’ve been so incredibly tired lately. I’m sure it’s a culmination of travel, stress, broken toes, no clean laundry, more chemo, misalignment of planets, blocked chi… all that mess. So, yesterday, after chemo and picking Madeline up from school, I laid down for a bit. I blamed my broken toe for the need to kick back and relax, but really, I was just simply exhausted. Madeline eventually curled up with me, snuggling into my side. I held her and stroked her hair, telling her what a wonderful little person she is. She looked at me and smiled, blinking her big blue eyes that were growing heavy with sleep. We both needed some alone time together where we did nothing but just “be”. For her to hear from me just how special she is. I try so hard to let her know how special she is all the time, but sometimes it’s really hard for her to understand why Ben is getting all the attention.
She eventually fell asleep in my arms. I listened to her rhythmic breathing as she rested peacefully under my umbrella of love. I want to protect her from every harm, every heartache, every hurt that might ever come her way, but I know my umbrella can only cover so much. But in showering her with my love hopefully she’ll learn to weather the storms that will undoubtedly come her way whether she has an umbrella or not.
I love you, my little Madeline. You are my sunshine.
Sarah, your writing never fails to connect in a visceral way. This entry warmed my heart more than most. Your complete and unconditional love of Madeline is obvious and your writing captured it in a way sure to connect with every parent. I’m sure it is tough for ‘zilla to see her big brother struggling. I’m sure that she worries about the outcome and is affected by the household stress. I’m sure at time the selfish nature at each of our cores rises to the surface shouting “What about me? Lookee here! I’m important too!” You are a WONDERFUL, caring and protective mother. Rest assured that Madeline knows that she is loved. You work to give her security even in the midst of chaos and crisis. Sending limitless love and prayers, as always!
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