motherhood, parenting

Medicinal kisses and when you write so you can remember

Dear Waleed,

You jumped off your bright yellow choo choo train this morning and bumped your knee. Mama! You cried out. You showed me the ouchie and raised your leg for me to examine, and then heal with a kiss I medicinally apply by blowing onto my fingertips and dabbing to the injured surface. You watched me at the task with all the seriousness of a patient receiving treatment from their doctor. When I was done, you ran off to continue playing, fully healed.

This evening you bounced in your chair requesting aloo gobee leftovers from the evening before. I wrapped up a biteful in pita and lingered too long near your mouth when you chomped down on it, and my finger, in the process. Ouch! I grimaced from the pain, massaging my throbbing finger. And then I looked at you. I am aware of the word crestfallen but never understood its full meaning until I saw your face. It’s okay, I assured you. Accidents happen. You stared at my finger. Your mouth wavered, your eyes grew wet and in an instant, you leaped into my arms, weeping. There was such pain in your sobs, it physically hurt more than any accidental bite ever could. We gave you ice cubes and opened and shut the microwave door and soon all was well once more.

So many little things happen each day. New words learned. New games invented. I’m not sure why these two moments felt so very jarring to me that I had to write them down. Maybe because of how pure your belief in me still is. How my kisses truly heal your aches. And how my perceived pain shakes the foundation of your world. In a world filled with cynicism and manipulations, where we say one thing but mean another, these moments are so pure and honest. And in these moments I can fix everything that is wrong. Maybe I hope by writing it down I’ve at least saved it to remember for later.

I’ve known you for over two years and I’ve only known this little boy who lives each moment with sincerity and who I can help make better with hugs and kisses. And I know there will come a time when you will have to grow more complex and when your troubles can’t be washed away with quite such ease. While I know then I won’t be able to set the world back on its axis with quite such ease, I hope you’ll retain a glimmer of this purity of spirit, and I hope that though medicinal kisses may not heal all future wounds, that my presence will always be a source of strength on which you can lean.

Love,
Your Mama

8 thoughts on “Medicinal kisses and when you write so you can remember”

  1. He is adorable MA and you are a very good mum.
    When mine was the same age as yours, i used to kiss his hurt better and unlike my older daughter who would play along that the hurt was gone away or better Omar would stand and look at me with a look on his face and then one day he confided in his stuttered speech that you know what mum? when you kiss my hurt better the pain does not really go away 🙂

    Like

  2. He is adorable MA and you are a very good mum.
    When mine was the same age as yours, i used to kiss his hurt better and unlike my older daughter who would play along that the hurt was gone away or better Omar would stand and look at me with a look on his face and then one day he confided in his stuttered speech that you know what mum? when you kiss my hurt better the pain does not really go away 🙂

    Like

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