Exactly 10 years ago.
\nOn this day.
\nAt this very time.
\nAfter a long and meaningful night.
\nI met DO for the first time.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello,\u201d I whispered, unable to hold back the dam of my eyes, my tears flowing like little streams.<\/p>\n
I remember so clearly the first time they handed you to me.
\nI touched you, afraid of hurting you.
\nI held you, anxious not to squeeze too tightly.
\nYou looked so unimaginably small and fragile.
\nCompared to your tiny hands, my fingers seemed like something out of a fairy tale about giants.
\nI watched.
\nPressed my nose close.
\nChecked, as all new mothers probably do, if you were breathing.
\nDressed you, unsure how much was needed to keep you from overheating or getting cold.
\nI was in a sweat of nerves the first time I bathed you.
\nWorried that the woolen socks would scratch your impossibly tiny, soft pink feet, like freshly baked buns.<\/p>\n
And still, I just kept looking.
\nKnowing I could never tire of watching you.<\/p>\n
Ten full years have passed.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood morning,\u201d I whispered quietly, stepping into the room with a candle-decked cake.
\nAnd I feel it\u2014the same sparkle in your eyes as on our first meeting.
\nBut over the years, with well-trained dams of tears,
\nit doesn\u2019t spill.<\/p>\n
You reach for my shoulders.
\nI struggle to lift you.
\nYou are solid. Strong.
\nI could hardly keep up with you climbing.
\nYou dress yourself, understanding the balance of not too hot and not too cold.
\nYou shower, humming something under your breath.
\nYour shoe size is nearly catching up to mine.
\nYou have a crowd of friends.
\nYou are independent and responsible.
\nI can hug you firmly, without fear.
\nWithout anyone seeing, I can squeeze you with all a mother\u2019s tender honesty.<\/p>\n
And yet\u2014I still catch myself:
\nI look at you and still cannot get enough.
\nTen whole years.<\/p>\n
We, mothers, are born watchers.
\nWe do not tire.
\nWe do not rest.
\nWe do not ruin our eyes.
\nWe learn to see mistakes at a glance.
\nTo recognize triumphs and adventures half a mile away.
\nWith a look, we gauge ailments.
\nFrom a bustling playground, we can spot our own.
\nFrom the way they walk. From their gestures.<\/p>\n
We, mothers, watching them through the fireworks atop birthday cakes,
\nShoot even bigger fireworks in our hearts.
\nOur own hearts burst
\nwith joy that they\u2019ve grown so much,
\nwith sorrow that time flies too fast,
\nand with memories of all we\u2019ve done together.<\/p>\n
Happy birthday, my heart\u2019s pyrotechnics specialist, DO.<\/p>\n
Shooting bigger fireworks in my heart than those on the cake,
\nV.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17584","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17584","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17584"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}