Loving Them is Enough

This wasn't supposed to come out like a poem. It came out like a poem.

Lilly and my younger son.

He digs playfully through the sand with his fingers, hunting for buried treasure;

She munches on her evening grain.

In this moment, watching and guiding and loving feels like enough.

My eyes wander down the fence line, my mind lost in thought, thinking to the rhythm of the grain rattling in the pan, the deep crunch of the narrow cylindrical pieces being ground between Lilly’s teeth and the soft-grit-psssshhhhing sound of the sand being dug and tossed aside by little hands.

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All the self-admonitions that have taunted me for years rise like visible thought bubbles:

I’m not a fun enough mom.

I don’t enjoy doing all those kids’ crafts; I’m not giving him a good childhood.

I don’t take him on enough vacations and outings.

I’m not teaching him enough. I don’t make flash cards like the other moms do.

I’m not enough.

&

Technically she’s rideable. Why don’t I have the desire to ride anymore?

I should just suck it up and do it.

Everyone else does it.

I’m not a real horsewoman. She just stands in a field. She needs more.

I’m doing this all wrong.

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I gently push aside the thought bubbles, allowing them to dissipate into the rapidly warming morning air.

Clarity finds me in their place: a sharp awareness that those thoughts are merely the detritus of stories other people have told me about what counts. Insidious seeds of self-doubt planted in the back of my mind.

It is enough to love them. To feed them. To protect them. To teach the lessons I am able to, in my own way. To sit and hold space and to listen and to be. To provide a safe and healthy landing.

Maybe not always…,

But in this moment in time, her ears lean forward in contentment; one foot cocks up, relaxed. And his little face lights up with glee at his bit of found treasure — a piece of teal plastic in the shape of a gem.

And in this moment, loving them is enough.