November 16, 2013
In the stillness of the night, by the soft glow of the night light, I told the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears to two little children. First, she climbed into the biggest chair and it was so hard. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.” said Goldilocks, and she jumped down. His face was sleepy. I love the way a person’s face calms in the journey to sleep. On this particular night, he was motionless under the blankets, head turned to the side, sinking deep into the pillow. Eyelids falling. Opening. Falling again. Goldilocks climbed into Mama Bear’s chair and it was too soft, like a giant marshmallow pillow. (That’s how everyone tells it right?) And then a smile so iconic of childhood, where a happy idea sweeps into your thoughts and over your face as you fade into slumber. It was a raison d’etre. A celebration of motherhood, childhood, stories, and dreams. Matter so pure, unfiltered life.
I wonder what a giant marshmallow pillow looks like in his head.