In ten days, Rain will be a year old. In two weeks, we'll close on a house. Would we be buying a home if Rain wasn't here? I think ... no. Without Rain, Tim & I would probably have kept our roots from taking ground and used our money to travel. We might've upgraded to a super-sweet 'mobile & perhaps dinosaur flat screen.
Today I packed a few boxes while my sister watched Rain. I tried to remember what life was like before Rain and imagine what life would be like without her. I used to come home from work to a quiet apartment. Tim would be at work still, and I would casually read the mail, make dinner, and read a chapter or two of a novel. If I wanted to go to the gym, I did. If I didn't feel like going until later, no big deal. The apartment was quiet, but I never thought about that. I never noticed it. Nobody notices vanilla.
The first few weeks after Rain was born, I longed for vanilla. The new flavor was hard to take, because I had developed a taste for vanilla. There was nothing wrong with vanilla, so why, oh why, did I ever leave it?
Almost a year has passed, and I can say this for sure: there is no going back to vanilla. Even if the unthinkable happened and Tim left and took Rain with him, there is no going back to vanilla. Rain has been my companion every day for one year. I will never forget this year, because it is the year a stranger came into my life and showed me there's more to it than comfort, sameness, my way, safety--vanilla.
The funny thing is, Tim & I talked, talked, and talked about all the changes a child would bring into our lives, and ha! I still underestimated Rain. She took our little lives, politely admired their quaintness, and quickly deposited them into the kitchen disposal.
So what now? On her birthday, I will take her to a spot near where I live. There is a small wooded area that is always cool, no matter how hot the weather is. Once, when I was very pregnant, I walked past that spot as I was trying to exercise. I remember stopping there and wanting to talk to Rain. I told her all the things mothers tell their babies to let them know that it's safe to come out. I don't know how to explain it but perhaps to say that if you have ever been given something that was irreplaceable, something someone asked you to take care of that was precious to them, you have an idea of how I felt. I had this thought that Rain wasn't created by me but for me. It was humbling.
I told my belly how happy I was and thanked God for this chance at being more. Not at having more, but being more than vanilla.
Today I packed a few boxes while my sister watched Rain. I tried to remember what life was like before Rain and imagine what life would be like without her. I used to come home from work to a quiet apartment. Tim would be at work still, and I would casually read the mail, make dinner, and read a chapter or two of a novel. If I wanted to go to the gym, I did. If I didn't feel like going until later, no big deal. The apartment was quiet, but I never thought about that. I never noticed it. Nobody notices vanilla.
The first few weeks after Rain was born, I longed for vanilla. The new flavor was hard to take, because I had developed a taste for vanilla. There was nothing wrong with vanilla, so why, oh why, did I ever leave it?
Almost a year has passed, and I can say this for sure: there is no going back to vanilla. Even if the unthinkable happened and Tim left and took Rain with him, there is no going back to vanilla. Rain has been my companion every day for one year. I will never forget this year, because it is the year a stranger came into my life and showed me there's more to it than comfort, sameness, my way, safety--vanilla.
The funny thing is, Tim & I talked, talked, and talked about all the changes a child would bring into our lives, and ha! I still underestimated Rain. She took our little lives, politely admired their quaintness, and quickly deposited them into the kitchen disposal.
So what now? On her birthday, I will take her to a spot near where I live. There is a small wooded area that is always cool, no matter how hot the weather is. Once, when I was very pregnant, I walked past that spot as I was trying to exercise. I remember stopping there and wanting to talk to Rain. I told her all the things mothers tell their babies to let them know that it's safe to come out. I don't know how to explain it but perhaps to say that if you have ever been given something that was irreplaceable, something someone asked you to take care of that was precious to them, you have an idea of how I felt. I had this thought that Rain wasn't created by me but for me. It was humbling.
I told my belly how happy I was and thanked God for this chance at being more. Not at having more, but being more than vanilla.
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