Inner child

Tonight you helped me.
It’s meant to be the other way around, I know that. I should be teaching you, leading you and settling you. Normally I do, but tonight it didn’t work like that. We had been travelling for hours. You were fed up, I was fed up, your dad was fed up. It was fair enough. We all had our reasons.

You didn’t want to be strapped in on a beautiful day seeing only the door handle and the blue sky. It was mundane. Your intrigue was impeded and your playfulness hindered. You cried for what seemed like an hour.

It tested me in more ways than you can imagine. I was frustrated but understanding, intolerable but compassionate, helpless yet empathetic all at once. It was a storm of emotion for both of us that we simply had to wait to pass. We had somewhere to be. Time was not of the essence.

Your dad didn’t enjoy trying to navigate the ship through the storm. He did his best to steer me in the right direction but it was a times trying I’m sure. He would tell me to not worry and that it’s not a bad cry. He doesn’t quite understand. For me, your enduring cry is a natural catalyst for the storm which I struggle to tame. You will understand one day.

When we arrived at our destination, it was late. I tended to the nighttime routine which tonight involved a shower. To you it was exciting, to me it was just part of the routine. Or so I thought.
I watched you as you sat on the shiny wet tiles and splashed playfully with the puddles surrounding you. You would hold your hands up above your head sometimes as if to catch the water drops before they landed on you. Occasionally you would stroke your head with one hand in wonder as I blocked the drops from reaching you. As you looked back up at me, your big brown eyes exuded warmth and happiness. It was as though nothing else mattered. And you were right. Nothing else mattered. Just the present, the moment, the setting.

We sat on those tiles together for 30 minutes. I swished my hands through the puddles and splashed you. I blocked the flow with one palm and watched you react. I sometimes reached up high with both arms so I could feel the water drops sliding down my arms and over your head which was leaning on my chest.
I released my inner child and it was beautiful.
You helped me find her.