The moment was filled with comfort. The few moments before were filled with whining on his part and patience on mine. With a little edge of irritation thrown in for humanity’s sake.

But then we stop in front of the oldest brother’s school and settle in for our daily wait. On queue, as soon as we hear the creak of the emergency break being set, I tip my seat back and he unbuckles and climbs over the collection of toys and trash that sprinkles the floor of the van.

He crawls into my lap and snuggles with ghee (aka his favorite blanket since birth). He rests his ear against my chest and I know it won’t be long. Since his baby days, this has been his landing place before his eyelids get too droopy to fight.

I assume he is soothed by the sound of my heart. Thump swoosh, thump swoosh, thump swoosh. I remember being soothed by the same sound when I would lie against my dad while we watched tv.

A moment to stop. Be quiet. Be still. Listen. Live.

Thump swoosh, thump swoosh, thump swoosh.

I hear his breath simultaneously slow and deepen and my shoulder muscles release just enough of the tension they habitually hold. I see his head rise up and fall ever so slightly with my breath.

I become aware of my own heart, aware of the pressure of his head against my chest making the muscle work just a bit harder, aware that it too is slowing and deepening.

Thump swoosh, thump swoosh, thump swoosh.

The realization sinks into me that I need these moments of comfort just as much as he does. Why do Ineed comfort? Why does nurture and closeness feel so good? What is behind my need?

Fear. A low level of fear and shame, dwelling inside of me. Hiding ever so deeply in the most vulnerable parts of me. A question I have asked for perhaps all of my life. Am I enough?

Am I good enough? Smart enough? Brave enough? Am I enough for approval? Am I enough to be deemed valuable?

And behind that question – in all its different forms – is a dread that the answer waiting for me if I acknowledge the question is no, you are not enough.

So I spend my life ignoring the question. And I have all the right coping skills to do so. Lucky me.

But then moments like this happen. And they sink into me and rub their salve into the place inside that asks the question. And in these moments of comfort, of connection, of being present, of peace, of love….the question doesn’t make sense anymore.

Thump swoosh, thump swoosh, thump swoosh.

8 thoughts on “thump-swoosh

  1. hiddinsight says:

    I really enjoy your writing style and wit, so I have nominated you for the Liebster Award.

  2. Winsome Wren says:

    That made my heart “thump swoosh” a little faster. Precious, fleeting moments.

  3. Would that you could know you are enough
    all the time.

  4. […] I found was inspiration. Just enough to help me actually upload my last post. And then sit down to write some more. Sometimes help comes at just the right time, in just the […]

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