tag along
March 27, 2011 § 1 Comment
When our son was four he eagerly anticipated the arrival of his baby sister. She was a peaceful baby, a quiet companion to her big brother’s active curiosity. She would silently accompany us in arms, carrier, or stroller through the course of her brother’s day from preschool to play. Our son would marvel at the sleeping tag along, waiting for her to wake, hopeful for the day she would play.
By the time our daughter was crawling, our son’s fascination turned to frustration as train tracks and Lego creations were in danger of demolition. Efforts to play were clumsy; our daughter noisily filling the space around her big brother. She spent her wakeful moments trying to find her place beside him.
At four years old our daughter would push between the older children, blocking her brother from harm. Like a beloved stuffed animal, she followed him everywhere unaware of danger, completely content to belong. Our son, aware of a shadow, could not remember a time before the sun fell on him casting a permanent companion.
This week at our daughter’s class play, our son slipped between our daughter’s friends and wrapped his little sister in a hug. He tagged along, finding his way soundly to his sister’s side. She looked at him, marveling in a moment of belonging, and held him tightly.
scribblechic 
This brought tears to my eyes.
Moments like this make my mother’s heart burst.