Yesterday, I spent time with a good friend and her three year old granddaughter, Maia. Maia showed me where she sleeps when she stays at her grandparent's home. The room is huge, so Poppa put Japanese folding screens together, and covered the arrangement with a sheet, so we entered crawling through a small space, and there is her portable crib and a baby monitor, books and underneath a cell phone for which she doesn't have the code, but she knows how to punch buttons and bring up her picture, and there is music for those who know the code. There were also her sleeping bunnies, Mimi is one, so we could only whisper so as not to wake them up.
I sit here now, this morning, so touched by this little girl.
We went down to the beach. She filled her bucket with sand, buried her feet, and always curls and a smile.
Why am I so touched?
I woke this morning feeling my rib cage, move in and out, felt it as a flexible basket, almost rubbery, with the joy of movement. My heart is alive in response.
What wakens when we play with a well-loved and cared for child?
What wakes when we allow the child's spirit to fold into ours?
Isn't that where we come together to strengthen the bonds for all children, to celebrate the spirited dance that flows with joy and tears?