Dancing in the Streets

Daniil was pumped after his first parade, the Honk parade marching down Mass. Ave. featuring activist street bands from around the country. Drums booming! Horns blaring! People dancing on crazy high stilts! Lots of lefty chants about boycotting Monsanto and freeing immigrants held in detention. Gotta love the People's Republic, as Cambridge is fondly known. Daniil did his own little sidewalk dance caught by our friend Sara.
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We see so many friends in Cambridge and I feel buoyed by a level of love and support I simply haven't cultivated in my mere two years on the Cape. It's always a rather sad drive home, as Daniil continues to say goodbye to everyone he's met: "Goodbye, Uncle Matt... Where's Shelley?... No kisses, Vashti [Bill and Mea's collie dog]... Where's Beryl?..." Tonight, Daniil had had it by Exit 6 on the Cape. We were almost home, but he couldn't hold out and started to cry. "What do you want?" I asked, as has become my custom whenever he whines or cries. No response, simply a high-pitched whine-cry. "Do you want a hug?" I asked. "Da," Daniil nodded his head. "Right now?" I asked. Another nod in the affirmative. "We'll get off at the next exit," I said, and did.

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I pulled off Exit 6 and onto a gravelly area on the right of the road. I got out of the car, opened the back door, and reached in to hug Daniil in his car seat. "Seat belt off," he said. I hesitated, concerned that we'd have a struggle putting it back on. But I looked at his sad little face and decided to go with it. I picked him up out of the car, held all 40 pounds of him in my arms, and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, as cars zoomed by and dusk fell. He held me tight and wrapped his legs around me, letting his head fall on my shoulder, utterly releasing and relaxing into Mama. I sang softly in his ear "You are My Sunshine," the first verse, and then his favorite "Hush, Little Baby." We rocked and I sang, and then Daniil looked up and saw the first star. Likely it was a planet, so big and bright, but we called it a star anyway and Daniil was mesmerized. "A star," he said quietly. And then we turned and saw a bright crescent moon. "The moon!" he declared, more loudly. I placed him back in his carseat, no struggle, and we drove the final 10 minutes home. "Where's the moon?" Daniil contined to ask. "Behind us," I replied. "It's still in the sky, you just can't see it right now."
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No bedtime story, Daniil was too tired, so we simply turned off the light and jumped into bed, tonight with his school bus right beside him, not the beloved tractor trailer. Per this week's new custom, Daniil asked for kisses: “Big kisses… small kisses… big kisses… small kisses…” He softly whispered over and over, in nearly perfect English: “Big kisses… small kisses… big kisses… small kisses…” as he turned his head this way and that so I’d kiss exactly where he wanted on his neck. So very beautiful and sweet. He said goodnight to both the star and the moon before falling asleep.

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I've had my moments, believe me. Unbearable moments when I've completely broken down sobbing: what have I gotten myself into? Single motherhood is no picnic. Let's be blunt: it sucks a lot of the time. I've got to be constantly "on" as there's no one else here to provide respite, even a short 20-minute break during the day to make a phone call, vacuum the kitchen, wrap a present or run to the grocery store without toddler in tow, let alone read a poem, think or reflect. (I thank heaven daily for my incredibly generous mom who stops by whenever possible to lend a hand.)

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But then there are these other moments, counter-balancing times like tonight, when I get to stand by the side of the highway and reassure my son that his Mama loves him, that all is right in his world. Perhaps needless to say, I wouldn't trade this tenderness for anything.