Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Taking A Pause with Peanut Butter Breath

Dinner’s done, dishes washed, laundry folded, bed sheets changed.

Jeb’s completed his assigned 15 minutes of silent reading. It’s twenty minutes til bedtime and we still have drills and study for tomorrow’s geography, spelling and math tests.

He’s taking a pause, stretched out on my big bed.

He looks at me and pats beside him, “Mom, just come here for a minute.”

Seeing the hesitation on my face, he says with more earnestness, “Come on, I need this.”

Skeptics may suspect he’s trying to wriggle out of the multiple choice questions about his map of Nebraska. I don’t care. He’s thirty days shy of eight, and Jeb’s not going to be asking to cuddle up with me forever. Maybe I need this too.

I settle in at his side and he wraps his arms around me, throwing one long leg over mine.

We’ve been curling up like this since that first day when he moved from my womb to rest his wet cheek on my heart. All the days and nights. Each time our bodies found this comfort spot between us, familiar and grooved.

Except that his shape just keeps changing. The plump toes that used to graze my belly button, now stretch out towards my ankles. And that koala-bear body I could scoop up with one arm to adhere upon my hip, is sixty-five pounds and gaining. Nowadays, if Jeb falls asleep in the car, I have to wake him and walk him up the stairs.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

He gave up on me fifteen pounds back, but these days even the big guys in his life repeat the mantras.

“You’re getting too big now!”

“You’re heavy, I can’t lift you up anymore!”

“Whoa, you’re getting strong…be careful when you wrestle!”

But tonight, there is no rough house. Tonight Jeb asked for pause with me. He’s sidled up in my arms and as I embrace his frame I am amazed to find him delicate. He seems so small. Long, thin arms are hinged toothpicks. His fingers that trace my forehead, feathers. It feels as if I squeeze him too tightly he could break.

His eyes keenly scan my skin, noticing freckles and a scratch on my shoulder.

I feel the shape and weight of him within my arms. I soak in the delicacy of his boyish precipice. I am entwined in his limbs, these appendages that grew within me, cell by cell. This will all soon disappear.

In this, I am alone. He will never know.

Because I smile the mother’s smile. The one that holds the bittersweet. That we love with all our hearts. Body. Soul. Give to let it grow. One day the children will not need us. And this is what we want.

“Can you choke when you’re learning to swallow vitamins?”

His random question is close to my face. His breath, warm and without boundaries, exhaling peanut butter and honey sandwich across my cheeks. For a moment, I think to turn away, but catch myself.  Then breathe it in a little deeper.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Some Stitches from the Life Soundtrack

Some days the weave is thick with music. The soundtrack of life that threads in the background, stitches moments, solidifies patterns that slowly emerge.

This morning it’s the notes that touch me most. The sounds from the throats of humans. The plucking of strings on a guitar. The harmonies of instruments in rhythm.

These messages, someone’s heartfelt expression. They reach across airwaves to find their place in my ear drums. To beat time with my own heart. Where we are connected. Feeling. Seeking. Reporting what we find.

Top three on the life soundtrack right now: Bon Iver, Feist and Piers Faccini.

Here’s a sample from all three of these incredible humans. May we all find our song and sing it!

 

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 3 Comments

When the Goddess Washes Up at Your Feet

Already I was feeling prosperous.

At home there was a big pot of vegetable barley soup on the stove. Banana-chocolate-chip-walnut muffins were fresh from the oven. It was a Sunday morning at the beach, with surf that threw waves on the sand, making pools deep enough for Jeb to float (or cannonball).

There was a blue sky with cotton ball clouds, accented by the circling of angelic white, long-tailed Tropic birds. Once in a while they’d swoop low above us.  There was me, and the Bohemian Lover that sat at my side. The bird’s heads moving, quickly scanning us below, clicking calls from their throats, then gliding away.

I hummed a Feist song, “Cicadas and Gulls”, (I’m in the sky, sky, sky, sky…I’m in the sky, sky, sky) while the Bohemian held my thumb, intently removing an old embedded bee stinger with single-pointed thoroughness. And, once removed, kissed the empty space where it had been.

Jeb and his friend were nearby, relocating beach weeds to create a new ecosystem of greenery and pools from a nearby waterfall and stream.

Looking North, there was nothing but ocean and horizon. Waves that never ceased. Our bare skin was warmed in the late October sun.

So when it was time to go home, I was feeling to be a wealthy woman as I left the Lover, the birds, the sun and surf. I was still humming as I gathered the young boys and we began the stroll back to the car.

And then the goddess washed up at my feet.

Well, technically, she was embedded in the sand – just a bit – like any self-respecting buried treasure would be.

Yes, there it was. A golden coin, about 2.5 inches in diameter, peeking up from the wet shoreline. Engraved on one side, was the Hindu goddess Lakshmi (Gaja Lakshmi, to be exact) where she sat upon a lotus flower flanked by elephants and imparting gifts with her four hands. The coin’s other side was carved in Sanskrit in the shape of a bursting sun of light.
Gaja Lakshmi
Jeb was in awe. “It’s gold!”

His friend inched closer to peer at the coin which was now in Jeb’s tight grip.

“We’re rich, Mom! This is gold. It’s worth a million dollars!”

“Mmm…it looks gold. I don’t know if it’s real gold…”

“Don’t say that. No. It is. For real!”

His friend: “Yeah, it looks like real gold…”

We continue walking, the boys side by side, studying the coin, taking in the mystery. I’m smiling, still in the sky, sky, sky, sky…now with even a little more sparkle to the magic I feel.

At day’s end, after soup and muffins, I do a little Lakshmi study:

Gajalakshmi represents prosperity, happiness and luck, and is the Goddess who brought back all the wealth lost by Indra, the King of Devas (demi Gods). The giver of animal wealth like cattle and elephants, Gajalaxmi is the fourth of the eight aspects of Ashtalakshmi, or the eight aspects of the Goddess Laxmi.

Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, happiness and beauty emerged from the ocean of milk when the Gods churned it to produce Amrita (divine nectar) and she at once became Vishnu’s consort. She is pictured as an ideal of slim-waist, full breasted feminine beauty. When she is depicted separately from Vishnu as in this case, she has four hands: in two of them she is holding lotus flowers, while the other two bestow the gifts of well-being and prosperity. Lakshmi is said to reside in sweet-smelling floral garlands which bring fortune and wealth to the wearer. She also has a role as a fertility goddess and is particularly linked to the richness of the soil.
(source:  http://www.goddessgift.net/lakshmi-gajalaksmi-brass-OM-BST156.html)

Wealth comes in so many forms. A healthy body, a bowl of warm soup, the vision of a bird in flight. The look of wonder on my son’s face. A kind man removing a bee sting from my finger.

And if life wants to offer a golden coin from the goddess of prosperity to wash up at my feet, so be it.

For those days when I’m feeling downright in the dumps and desolate, I’ll soak up these reserves. Let it permeate my cells. Fill up with the golden love. Vow to shine it all around.