This weekend, our family dog came back to us. She has been away for almost a year; she went for an extended holiday in the countryside with family while we got used to the little person that joined us and how the rhythm of our days needed to alter to accommodate our baby’s needs.
Although I wouldn’t say that I feel like a parent yet, I am now getting pretty comfortable with our changing routines. When the entire world tells you things will pass and change quickly, I didn’t really understand what they meant until looking back.
Those early days when I was recovering; aching and sore, were calm and quiet. They did seem to invite recuperation in the long nights as we tipped into the new (current) year while snug inside.
But now, with an almost-one-year-old who is determined to get about on their own terms, I find myself almost longing for those quiet, early days with my tiny baby held close to my chest as I gingerly pad about the house.
Instead, we get to enjoy the shrieks of delight as new skills are discovered. A step! A word! A tooth!
Nap times come and go, some gratefully accepted, others grumpily refused. I try to make use of these softer moments. Occasionally I succeed, such as the writing of this rather self-indulgent post.
But back to Lyra. I had the most beautiful walk with her this afternoon. We enjoyed the not-quite-cold air, stomping through muddy puddles and a bit of time one on one.
She is home.
