Thoughts from a parked car. Lent Day 10

I’m sitting in my car. I’ve parked in my drive way and both my children are fast asleep. I wonder how much time of my life has been parked in my car while one of my small people sleeps. I would imagine that it is quite a lot. 

Gray has collapsed against the strap of his safety belt. His mouth is wide open and little curls of hair frame his face. On his lap is a giant rubber dinosaur, its expansive brontosaurus head tucked under his arm. His long black eye lashes splay out against the porcelain skin that he has inherited from me. His complexion has as yet to receive the inheritance of it’s African home but I have no doubt that the freckles will come. 

Eva’s little head droops forward. Her dummy trembles every now and then and her feet bounce occasionally to the song on the radio. It is almost as if she is dancing in her dreams. Her beloved muslin ‘lala’ sits cradled in her lap. A little stubbed toe catches my attention. We will no doubt be needing to find a plaster for it as soon as she notices the dreadful wound - her discovery of it might be accompanied by a weep.  Stains of an ice-lolly have gathered in the folds of her neck and there is still the trace of chocolate milk on her cheek. She shouldn’t be asleep because she has already had a nap today but sometimes one just has to let sleeping puppies lie. 

This is no major moment in the history of the world. It’s just a mom and her two sleeping children sitting in a car. But one day these small, sticky things will grow up and these moments will be forgotten because they are such a regular part of my life right now. We tend to only remember the things that stick out. But in capturing this now I hope it will stick. I am alive, I have children, we are happy, they are safe, they know they are loved. Let us never underestimate normal.