Supposed to Be

1 Aug

Abigail often wakes up with a vengeance, ready to tackle the day. She takes after me because usually I do, too. It’s my favorite time. The day so new and fresh. Sometimes I have to slow myself down. Not unload the dishwasher, not start a load of laundry, not check my emails or facebook. Just take the time to be. 

Our mornings are pretty routine. Milk for Abigail and a glass of water for me. Afterwards a search for Hank, feet pitter pattering around until she spots him. The day can now begin, a mixture of play and cuddles.

We have breakfast later. The conversation at some point turning familiar. “Wusdat?” “Chihauhau” “Wusdat?” “Saint Bernard” “Wusdat?” “Labrador Retriever” “See?!” “I see. A Bassett Hound” Abigail longing to be the toddler who knows dog breeds, but not the alphabet.

She pulled the roll of drawing paper out. We sat and sang along to the Curious George soundtrack as we colored. The song “Supposed to Be” came on.

Maybe it’s up with the stars
Maybe it’s under the sea
Maybe it’s not very far
Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be
This is how it’s supposed to be
Maybe it’s trapped in a jar
Something we’ve already seen
Maybe it’s nowhere at all
Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be
This is how it’s supposed to be
Looking forward as we rewind
Looking back is a trap sometimes
Being here is so easy to do
If you want to

And when our happy morning took a wrong turn, Asia and Olivia rescued us with an impromptu play date and banana bread still warm from the oven.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be.

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