There’s a lad outside my window—a blonde, blue-eyed boy. His words tumble out in bursts, his cheeks flushed, his tiny feet stomping as he shouts through the glass:
Watch me now, Momma!”
Look!
See!
Listen!
A cool trick. A neat move he just made up on the trampoline.
“Watch my hands, Momma!” he calls, zooming past with excitement too big for his little body.
The sun’s glare lights up the pages on my desk. My eyes blur, not just from the brightness, but from the distraction of him—bathed in light, alive with joy. I try to focus on his world, watching him through the glass as the sun warms my skin from behind the pane.
This little boy—this future man—he lives in this world with me, but in this moment, he wants so much more of me.
He wants to be seen.
To be noticed.
To be heard.
And right now… he just wants me.
All of him is calling me to look, to witness his wonder.
I set down my pen. Rub my eyes. Shake off the sluggish warmth the sun has wrapped around me.
I breathe in that extra bit of energy.
And I go to him.
This is motherhood.
Moments like this.
Moments asking for our full attention.
Moments that can so easily slip past unnoticed.
But moment by moment, they’re stitching together the fabric of our lives.
And I see you, too.
You’re always taking care of everyone else—let me take care of you for a change.
I know it’s been hard.
But it’s about to get better.
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Chasing more life with you,
Molly Engle
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