Deep Rivers

“Mum, you have deep rivers on your face.” She pulls me close as I come to say goodnight and her blue eyes inspect. 

“Where?” 

And with that, her stubby four year old pointer traces the lines either side of my nose down to the corners of my mouth. She tracks her finger intently with her mouth-open gaze.

It’s true. These ‘rivers’ have tasted the tears of difficult times, but also tears shed with hilarity. They’ve felt the arid absence of tears when giving out was too much, for too long, and where my internal world showed on my expressionless face.  For it’s somewhere in the zone between rivers of sadness and the tides of aching laughter that my deep rivers exist. Feeling the movement of smiles and pensive thought, intense concentration and wearing the familiar daily routine – these rivers are waiting. 

Waiting, as my own thoughts are interrupted by the questions needing immediate answers from the growing minds around me. Waiting, as I expertly juggle their social calendar, their physical and nutritional needs. Waiting, as I listen and counsel their growing spiritual awareness. Waiting, while I dive into the self-care that keeps me centered: my piano, my journal, my choice friend. 

Waiting, for me to notice and catch my breath at a glimpse of beauty around me. Waiting, while I respond thoughtfully, giving life to the ones who are mine because to them, I am the one who is theirs. Waiting, as I take a moment to gratefully accept their freely given kind and simple offerings. Waiting…… to be filled by the depth and height of emotion that means I AM REAL. 

These rivers have witnessed the best and worst with me - the stories told and those hushed. They’ve been forged through turning seasons and my making of memories. There’s wisdom in these rivers. More than I know. 

Still loving. Still listening. Still learning. This is me in family.

And my deep rivers smile again at the thought that just around those bends ahead, adventures await.