She Fell Off Her High Horse...
My daughter did. Literally.
Off her high horse at horseback riding class.
Three years of riding. Her first fall.
Fortunately, she is fine.
Steve called me after picking her up and told me. She got on the phone and cried. I was sitting at Daniel's baseball game at the time, helpless, feeling sorrowful for her, but enormously grateful that she wasn't hurt.
Normally, she sleeps at the other end of the house in her super-cool, ultra-pre-teen aqua blue bedroom with the enormous giraffe painted on the wall. Last night, I told her to sleep closer to me, in the super-boring, blue and yellow wall-papered guest room. She readily obliged. I cuddled with her in the bed for a while, wiped her tears, prayed with her, encouraged her to cry as much as she needed to, to let the fear out, and to journal through every detail of it. I got her some Motrin, some water, and kissed her a dozen times before leaving the room. She was out cold within minutes.
She fell sleep with tears on her cheeks and complaining of a headache. I went to sleep with a broken heart and the phone number for a criminal negligence lawyer clenched in my furious fist.
This morning, she was fine. Shaken, frightened, but fine. Right now, at 6:15 PM, she is outside playing with her friends. The sound of her laughter is more beautiful today than it has been in a long time.
What would I have done if she'd been seriously hurt - or killed?
I am reminded of the fragility of life.
The way in which life can be drastically altered in a flash.
I love my children. From the moment I laid eyes on them, I have been enchanted. Kristiana will turn 13 on Monday. She was born 15 days past her due date, wrinkled, hairy, fat, and luscious. Daniel came only one day late, arriving while I sat in a tub at the Birth Cottage in New York State. It still blows my mind when I think that my body produced their bodies. That I was the channel for the passing of two new souls, new spirits, new human beings from heaven onto this planet.
When they are hurt, I writhe.
When they are happy, I am ecstatic.
My heart isn't on my sleeve.
My heart is on my driveway playing basketball and out on the street playing tag football at the moment.
She fell off her high horse yesterday and landed on my heart.
Soft landing, I hope.
Be well, my sweet girl.
Cry whenever you need to.
Laugh whenever you can.
And come to Momma for a hug anytime.
PS. She read it and told me that her room is green, not blue. Also, her head still hurts, so say a prayer for her, okay???