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Chris and I have a ritual of going out to the backyard and talking every night after Bowie goes to sleep. Sometimes we chat briefly, other times we spend 3 hours out there, playing Scrabble or swimming. We share our experiences throughout the day, remind each other of upcoming events, make plans, talk about movies and books. It is our connecting time and I LOVE it so.Last night, I heard about a conversation Chris had that day at the office with a co-worker. Talking about refinancing, Chris mentioned our home's square footage, a modest 1,300. His shocked friend said what a close family we must be. Our reactions both were, "Yes, we are." And we both smiled hugely and went on to talk about how well that suits us and how happy we are, so close. We certainly all long for a bit more personal space from time to time (sewing room, recording studio, second bathroom, mudroom), but at this time with Bowie, we want to be close. We want to be able to hear him if he wakes and wants us, able to talk to each other while in separate rooms doing our own things, aware of each others presence. Physical closeness is a part of emotional closeness for me. And we've got both going on, joyfully.
An excerpt from my letter to Bowie about his fifth birthday (I mail them to our home and store them by their postmarks, one day to give to Bowie):"At 45.5 inches, you are almost 6 inches taller than the average 5-year old boy. You are such a big boy. Not only in your size but also in your mind. You are so smart, Bowie. Your use of language is astounding. You stammer as you create these complex sentences, full of adverbs. You tell jokes and laugh with heart-shaped smiles, making joy infectious (whether the joke made sense or not, it's impossible not to join in). People are won over by you. I love that you see each person as a potential friend, inviting strangers over, "Would you like to come sleep over sometime?" I often think back to one day at Zilker Park, before you were talking much, but signing lots. As you watched the swarm of field tripping big kids run past you, you signed "friend" over and over. You have not lost that, my boy. You may sometimes edge into people's private space, touching their faces, hugging and sitting in laps...some people aren't sure how to respond to that. As adults most of us have had decades of training about keeping away from people, but you are retaining that primal trust in people, in connection. It is such a lesson to me, your introverted, reserved Mama. My life, my community is widened as I now chat with many people who previously I would have only communicated with by a smile or glance. So at five, you are still my baby and my teacher...growing larger and more powerful each day."
