Overcome

I’m not sure how I got here.  Somehow, in the midst of all the small, mundane parts of life I awoke one morning to find that I’m living in some kind of a state of bliss.  It’s a place I didn’t imagine existed.  A place where the things I had dreamt of as a child or a young woman had come true.  I’m at the part of what comes after happily ever after.

The place I live in right now isn’t full of Very Big Things.  We’re not living some fabulous life of wealth and privilege.  We have everything we need and nearly everything we want.  All of us.  A state of contentment so deep, people can barely make wish lists for Christmas and Birthdays.  Littlebit, merely, asking for a surprise for Christmas.

Of course things aren’t perfect.  We still deal with the concern over our rental property in IL.  I can list off about fifteen home improvement projects I’d like to undertake right now.  Juno is still not fully potty trained.  But there’s something about the peace of waking up each morning and not having any pressing thing that must be undertaken.  No emergency that must be solved and sorted.  Nothing hangs over our head more serious than a misplaced piece of homework.

I’m overcome with peace.  With thankfulness.  With gratitude.

The Princess is growing into a fine young lady.  Lovely and smart.  Littlebit is full of happiness.  Baby Bee continues to burst out of the silence of her speech delay and we find her funny and observant.  All three girls are doing well at school, adjusting. Littlebit and Baby Bee burst from the school doors every days with their faces split by smiles so big it makes my cheeks hurt to watch them.  And Big Daddy?  Well, of course he’s my own personal Prince Charming.  As perfect for me as if he’d been custom ordered to be mine.

Big Daddy and I enjoy something that will never stop filling me with peace and happiness.

We have worries, but none of them are insurmountable.  Nearly everything feels like something we can accomplish and we’re daring to dream beyond what we have right now.  Daring to believe that some things are, indeed, possible.

Baby Bee’s head rests on my knee.  She’s wearing the sweetest little dress.  Her hair is soft, like the finest silk. She narrates her t.v. show to me.  Her tiny hands grip my arm with her excitement and fervor.  My eyes tear up.  Her eyes are the color of honey.  Neither the color of mine or Big Daddy’s or anyone I can think of, really.

I never expected happiness to find me like this, tucked into the small moments.  I expected happiness to be spurred on by something bigger and more profound.  It’s not.  It’s here.  In this small moments.  It’s in the feel of a tiny, loved body under my hand as I soothe her to sleep.  It’s in the sound of someone you love sleeping next to you.  It’s the sounds of familiar laughter.  It’s a pair of chocolate drop eyes, just inches from your face, a little nose rubbing against your own and a giggle.  It’s in the sound of Baby Bee’s  “mommy!” as she runs out of the school doors.  It’s the silky, thick weight of the Princess’s hair under my hands.  It’s the warmth of Big Daddy’s fingers grasping mine.

Perhaps it’s the weather.  The crisp days and bright skies.  Perhaps it’s the promise of my favorite time of year.    I don’t know what it is.  I’m so happy it’s here.