"Jemmy's mouth released its hold with a small, milky pop! and his head lolled back. The crook of Brianna's elbow was hot and sweaty, where his head had rested; his tiny ear was crumpled and crimson. She lifted his inert body and sighed with relief as the cool air struck her skin. A soft belch bubbled out of him with a dribble of excess milk, and he subsided against her shoulder like a half-filled water balloon."I don't remember the last time I nursed Daniel. I wish I did. But when I read the paragraph above this morning, it touched the core of me. I wanted so much to have that moment back in time for myself. That intimate knowledge of my child and everything about him. His need for me.
Do mirror neurons fire not just from seeing something, but from reading about it as well?
Daniel, now 13, came home this morning from his Boy Scout camping trip in the snow. Having been the typical worried mother, I was thrilled to see him and asked how the trip was, fully expecting the usual pithy one-word answer.
"Fun!"
Yep, there's the one word. Yet he added with a broad smile, "The tent collapsed on us three times in the night!"
That's all I'll hear of it. The number of experiences we share dwindles each year and I miss him more and more. I yearn to know and understand him- his motivations, his challenges, his hopes and dreams. I pray someday he'll open his world to me. For now I'll just try to share mine with him.
