When Jesse was born, we lived in Tarzana, 25 miles west of L.A, We lived across from the park. Beyond the basketball courts and baseball field was the sand and the jungle gyms and the balance beams—and of course, the swings. I would take Jesse every day, first in her stroller when all she could do was sit in the sand. Once she could walk, she would waddle over. Sometimes I sat on the grass, sometimes I sat in the sand, sometimes I sat on a bench, with the Latina nannies. Sometimes I was lonely.
Early twilight, the moon would come up from the horizon. We would sit; I would sing to Jesse, “The stars at night were big and bright—boom—boom boom—boom, Deep in the heart of Texas,” then eventually a segue into “I see the moon and the moon sees me.” Over and over and over again. And feel the love only a mother knows, no matter how lonely.
“My mother was like sand.
The kind that warms you on a beach when you come shivering out of the cold water.
The kind that clings to your body,
leaving its impression on your skin
to remind you where you’ve been
and where you’ve come from.”
–Clare Vanderpool
Moon Over Manifest
You are lucky if you had a mom like that.
Loved reading about the swings and sand, Sue!
I am so glad you are following me! Thank you.