Oh dear Nettles.
I had so much to say about this month. It’s been a time suck.
At the worst of times, I was at least able to hold you, kiss you, nuzzle you, see you. A luxury not everyone’s had with their loved ones in the last few weeks.
Another luxury I don’t take for granted is how focused you’ve become on your brother and sister. You perk up when you hear them; no matter how ‘busy’ they just were, you’re able to lock eyes and fully capture them. You turn them into mush; you make me understand why so many ‘third’ children come away the way they do.
We’ve taken a new turn, me and you: you manage to work your way around a carpet like a clock and I went back to working in an office after three years at home…
…all this, the same week our country found itself at semi-war. I left you with our trusted metapelet but felt an unhealthy cocktail of unease and guilt and doubt the first few mornings while rockets still threatened Jerusalem and Tzur Hadassah. Somehow, those first few days, the weather cooperated with my mood, creating an ominous backdrop of clouds shading disputed territory on my way into the most challenging city in the world.
But as I self-talked through my doubt during those labored car rides, I remembered why I’m doing this. I want to be my best version of me for you. I feel a responsibility to show you what an empowered, capable, productive woman looks like. What she sounds like. How she feels and loves.
So I’m out there, taking it in, day-by-day, bite-size.
Coming home to your smile and your laughing eyes makes it so much more digestible.
Whadya got: