Last week, I lost something special to me. Only my closest friends and family knew I had it, and when I lost it, I lost some of my innocence about the life I’m living. I wanted to stay in bed and cry for days, but I didn’t. I had family and friends to put on a happy face for. And I had special family and special friends that I didn’t have to wear a happy face for.
The Saturday before Mother’s Day, Brandon asked if I wanted to go strawberry picking. I didn’t. I wanted to send him out with the kids, and stay at home alone and sulk. But I knew he was worried about me, and he wanted me to be happy — not just wearing a happy face, but really happy. I remembered the Saturday before Mother’s Day last year, when we went strawberry picking, and then I spent Mother’s Day learning how to can homemade jams.
I remembered not being able to bend over much because of still recovering from my c-section 2 months before, and, oh yeah, 12 lbs of dead weight tied to my front! I remembered the giggles of my older children as they ran up and down the aisles of the strawberry fields, looking for plump berries, and their red faces as they sampled a berry, with juice running down their chins and dripping onto their shirts.
We packed up the car and headed out. I enjoyed making new memories this year, with my kids all a year older. We had many of the same moments — berry tasting, running, giggling — and some new ones. (Remember the 12 lbs of dead weight from last year? Now about 25 lbs of VERY active weight!)
I spent Mother’s Day evening canning jam (8 pts. so far!) and experimenting with a pint of apple jelly, too! (The experiment was a success, so after the baby goes down for his nap, I’m heading back to the kitchen to make more, and also some grape jelly!)
I didn’t forget my sorrow, but I was mostly happy, most of the weekend. And now that sorrow seems a little farther away. A little less likely to invade my every thought. And maybe, just maybe, I have a little of my innocence back.