Brown bear, brown bear

My baby read a book to me today. She’s in Florida with my mom for the rest of the month and although I feel her absence, I’m still able to enjoy the sudden abundance of free time. I get to mosey home after work, no more mad dash to her day care. I’m decorating, meeting friends for dinner, sleeping in on the weekend. There are no little messes to clean up, no crumbs scattered around the house or sticky finger prints on the furniture. There are definitely perks, but there is also a dull pain.

It’s muted most of the time, but when I hear that squeaky voice over the phone chanting “Maaaameee! Maaaamee!,” a little bit of sadness sets in, because from hundreds of miles away I don’t get the hug and kiss that usually accompanies that greeting. And through the clear reception Metro PCS provides I know I hear a longing in her voice as well. And I know I have another week and a half to go.

Then her innate ability to make me feel better kicked in:
“Maamee, I know howta read a book!”
“Really?!”
“Yeah, is call Brown Bear”
Grandma prompts her to get the book out and read it to me, then with such confidence and clarity she begins to read the story aloud. I imagined her running her tiny fingers along the words then excitedly turning each page. My mouth falls open, the pride wells up in my eyes.

Brown bear, brown bear what do you see? I see a red bird looking at me
Red bird, red bird what do you see?….

She finishes the book and before I can get too emotional, she’s off growling in the background. My sister has come into the room and apparently they’re pretending to be wild animals or something entirely too fun to interrupt. At my mother’s goading she shouts “Good night Maamee…arrgggh….” Giggles ensue.

It’s clear she’s completely content, which clears my melancholy and I say good night to my very own little brown bear.