{this moment} : : Pigeon and peas

Joining Soulemama and other mamas in sharing a savorable moment from the week...

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Happy weekend!

A New Spoon for Pigeon

Pigeon sat in Mother's lap and watched her eat. His eyes and mouth were open wide. He leaned his chin in whichever direction the food was, watched it disappear into Mother's mouth, then flashed her a beseeching glance tinged with despair. It seemed to him that the world was full of more colorful and delicious things to eat than plain, white milk--and they were always just out of his reach.

But you are too young, Mother tried to explain. I would share with you if I could. And she meant it. She could see Pigeon was curious, and she sensed this was good. But most things, maybe all things besides milk, were too strong for a four-month-old belly.

But then, Pigeon was nearly five months old. And the look in his eyes made Mother feel guilty. So, while Father went to the store, Mother found a package of Pigeon-sized spoons and a very small dish she could use for a bowl. Father came back with the tiniest jar of sweet potatoes he could find. Just a spoonful or two will do it, she said, stirring the orange paste into the dish.

They sat Pigeon on the table in his special blue chair with the tray and fastened a bib behind his neck to keep him clean and dry. Then Pigeon ate. He ate with gusto and joy and anticipation. And though he wasn't any expert at swallowing, it didn't take him long to finish his meal.

A few days later, Mother pulled out a new chair for Pigeon to eat in. It was larger, more comfy, with an even bigger tray for his bowl and spoon. When the potatoes were gone, Pigeon got to taste bananas. In the cupboard waited even more treats: carrots and peas, pears, and peaches... Just a few of the foods just fit for a Pigeon. Aren't we lucky, Mother said, to have so many delicious things to eat? For plain white milk was all well and good, but the rainbow of fruits that came from the earth, the textures and flavors and their endless combinations, could do more than feed the body. Food brings people together, Mother said. It certainly brought her close to her Pigeon. We must know it's a gift, she thought, and be thankful.

{this moment} : : independence

Joining Soulemama & countless others

with a single moment from the week

for savoring & safekeeping.

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Feel welcome 

to share your moment 

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Wishing a 

warm & happy weekend

to all!

Pigeon's Early Spring

In Pigeon's yard there is a hill. At the bottom of the hill leans a slim, young willow. The willow's branches dangle over a pond. Beyond the pond there is a thicket. The thicket borders a small, square meadow. At the edge of the meadow stands a tall, proud tree. Under the tree sits a still, brown cow. And the sun shines over them all.

The heat of the sun was a new thing for Pigeon, who had been outside many times before, but had never gone barefoot; he'd never wiggled his toes in the grass, nor felt the warm breeze delight the buttery-white skin of his arms. The sun had never been strong enough to turn Pigeon's cheeks pink or prickle his brow with sweat; he'd known only the crisp autumn air and the weak winter light.

But this week, the sun shone brave and bold and hot, and though there was a wind, it was a warm, welcoming kind that coaxed people out of their doors and buds out of their branches. Some trees wore half-sprouted blossoms like broaches; others were wrapped in a gauzy green mist. This early burst of life set the birds singing, the bees buzzing, and the daffodils blooming. After noting how unusual, how lucky and welcome the warmth was, there was nothing left to do but enjoy it. And so Pigeon and Mother went out in the yard; they walked down the hill and stood under the willow. They followed the path between the pond and the thicket, gazed at the meadow, and bowed to the trees. They sat with their faces to the warmth of the sun, as contented and quiet as the still, brown cow. And the Love shone over them all.

{this moment} : : where we live

 Joining Soulemama with a
moment from our week 

for savoring & safekeeping.

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A March Wind for Pigeon

There was an old saying, Mother said, that March would come in like a lion, roaring and tearing things up with its restless power. On the second day of March, Pigeon was napping when the lion opened his mouth in the sky overhead and announced his arrival. His breath bent the trees to the grass and raked the sides of Pigeon's house like a thousand magnificent claws.  

Hush, little baby. It is only the wind.

But the wind gave way to the lion's roar, a sound like the sky splitting in two. Out of the crack spilled beads of ice that pelted the roof like broken glass. Pigeon watched it bounce off the concrete and collect in the cracks of the patio.

Hush, sweet angel. It is nothing but hail.

Pigeon watched the hail dissolve into a curtain of water. For a moment its rushing was all they could hear. Light like the flash from Mother's camera burst in the air over the pond, where even the water was blown to one side to make way for the hard March storm.

Hush, little one, it is just the lightning and rain.

And then, as quickly as he'd come, the lion had passed. Pigeon could hear his rumbling trail off in the distance, could see his banner of flickering light retreating.

Later Mother and Father saw pictures of a darker path March had torn to the south. They sucked in their breath at the destruction and the sadness already sewn in the spring almost upon them.

But there was another half to the saying, Mother said, that March would go out like a lamb, with a warm breath on gentle breezes and a step too light to be noticed. March would skip without guile through their yard with crocuses draped around his neck like silk ribbons, give way to April with its gentler rain and tender budding branches. Lions and lambs, storms and sun, destruction and redemption, death and life and the promise of new beginnings.

Hold on, precious child. The Light is coming.

{this moment} : : camping in

Pigeon's Mom loves this tradition begun by Amanda of Soulemama:

"A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

We'd love to see your moment as well!

Share your link in the comments below...

Happy weekend!

{this moment} : : oversized

Pigeon's Mom loves this tradition begun by Amanda of Soulemama:

"A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

We would love to share your moment, too!

Leave your link in the comment section below...

Happy weekend!

Valentines for Pigeon : : 2012

At just four months plus one day old, February 14th didn't mean much to Pigeon yet. It meant more to Mother now that she had a Pigeon to make a valentine for. Truthfully, what she really liked about it was the idea of making valentines with Pigeon--for cousins, neighbors, grandparents, friends... But little Pigeon wasn't quite ready for that.

Someday you will make a Valentine's mailbox, Mother said. She remembered making her own in school when she was a little girl, how they all had to bring in a shoebox on a special day during Valentine's week. The whole class would decorate together in a frenzy of pink and red construction paper, white paper doilies, and glittering stickers in the shapes of hearts. A teacher or room mother would help cut a slit in the top for deliveries, and the post boxes would sit on the desks during the Valentine party.

We were allowed to have sweets at our parties, back then, she said. Parents would send in cupcakes and cookies on trays. And you could still tape chocolate hearts to your valentines... In anticipation of a cupcake or a foil-wrapped sweet, the kids would run around delivering their messages and treats to the shoe boxes. Each person would bring cards for everyone else in the class; it was the one day when you might get something nice said to you (in writing!) from someone who didn't usually like you very much. For a whole afternoon, at least, everyone felt safe and important, showered with love and friendship and hope. 

Anyway, I like you VERY much, Mother thought, looking at Pigeon while he slept. And so she used a little money she'd set aside to buy him a valentine--a new book for his library. At the bookstore she'd browsed the shelves of the Valentine's display, but found the holiday books scant in story and fat in price. Instead she found a book on another shelf that made her smile, for it was about two friends and their adventures together. The pictures were familiar to her, by one of her favorite illustrators. This is Valentine enough for me, she thought, even if it isn't done in pink and red.

Mother also bought Father a carton of tea and a nice broad mug for his new office. The next day she wrapped everything up in red and white, gathered up the cards that had come in the mail, and set them out on the table before Father came home for supper.

Later Pigeon helped peel the tissue paper away from his gift and ran his hands with happiness over the glossy cover picture of Frog and Toad on their bicycle. Mother and Father were both delighted at Pigeon's early love of books. This one has a whole week's worth of new stories in it, all in one book, Mother said. Pigeon also got cards from people all over the country. The grandparents and great-grandparents tucked money into their notes for Pigeon's piggy bank. Cousin Emily wrote him a special note with the new writing she'd learned in school. Father was pleased over his tea; Mother got a card and a sack full of coffee (the type she was too cheap to buy for herself) and smiled.

That night they read about Frog and Toad and snuggled in bed, and soon Pigeon was once again asleep and dreaming. Mother was glad to have this chance to delight him with simple gifts, when everything to him was new and exciting, and he wasn't burdened with the thought of giving her anything in return. How wonderful, she thought about Pigeon, to be so happy, so free to enjoy what is simple, to be able to give so much to the world without trying.

{this moment} : : daddy time

Pigeon's Mom loves this tradition begun by Amanda of Soulemama:

"A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember."

We'd love to share your moment, too!
Leave a link in the comments below. Happy weekend!