Your birthday is the line. You touched my feminine, the woman I am, and gave my body the presence of a magical intention- and when this day comes, my heart reconnects to it, something universal and whole, aligned fully with our time and our space.
By now I would say the worries are inevitable but maybe I just trust more. I trust your uniqueness and my somehow good-good goodness. I am good. You chose me. I might not be everything, but I am good for you, and you are good for me. The imperfections are everything, and always the source of your unique music. The infinite rabbit hole of motherhood so conveniently available in google has slowly closed and to this day, remains a black dot of “maybe” resources. I don’t follow mom blogs, I don’t read guidelines as much, I stopped the cycle of needing to know the need to know. The noise shut down to open space to your voice and your words that have so beautifully given shape to your ideas and dreams. And when the noise was dimmed, all that was left was us. Presence. I’m not obsessed with what everyone else is doing and I don’t want you to be like everyone else.
The silence of my heart is a safe place now. I don’t need to know. You are everything. Your birthday is this reminder of incredible happening to me. Me? Of all people, you chose me. You are the tangible evidence that there’s some serous big magic out there. And you were 3. Your 3 were energy, fireman and fish books, lots of jumping in the bed, soccer and Caribbean days, waves, horses, family, crazy loud love. We danced again, spent hours in the rhythms of swings, loops of circuits in parks. The slide, the stairs, the slide the stairs. I’m tired everyday like I can see red cracks in my eyes but I got used to it. I went from avoiding mirrors to smiling to mirrors. The wink of cool tired that is absolutely OK, my hair starting to show some white, but winning.
3 years flew by while in Denmark, your green løbecykel among the other bicycles and the bigger social world that became your new school, your gang of boys, Line, Thomas and Kong Nina. You are still holding my hand, still running to me to hug me when I pick you up, and we sing, in Danish, the song of Thomas finger and the Elefanten and the birthday song, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra! The TV shows you watched ranged from Pokoyo to Julius Jr. to Ninjago. You are a boy with huge imagination, and an inventor, and a Ninja, and I can still keep up with all your heart-versions. I know.
We celebrated your birthday.with Alberte and all the kids from Gul Stue- the yellow room. It was so exciting to see them walking into the garden, and see you at home among them, forgetting about me at moments. You knew it was your birthday and wanted to celebrate all weekend. We did. We sang and had balloons and planets and a ballon spaceship hanging from the ceiling.
Aurelio of all yellows and all butterflies and all sorts of amazing, a boy that loves sunshine and palm trees and the ocean. The fact that some Caribbean energy was somehow transferred into your heart will always amaze me. You are also very Danish, loving candles and flags, a bit of a bridge for me, showing me around a culture that you seem to navigate with such ease. Genius that you are, let’s do it all over again. Open me up. Show me whatever you are ready to show me. I am ready! The world is full of coaches and TED talks about finding your passion, counting to 4 and stating, being yourself, finding yourself, bla bla bla. To me It is crystal clear. I don’t need to count to 4, or follow any other coaching technique to stop delaying and start something. I found this force within, a yellow light in my heart that surrounds my skin, like I’m lit up. I found my way back into my career and I want to show you how it looks like to fight and dream. Come on! Ninja Go!
You say: Tu puedes mama. It means -you can do it. I will. I will do it. I promise.
Yeah! Lucky girl. Thank you.