I set out on Sunday to document a bit of everyday family life for both you and me. The fleeting little moment that are so normal, so representative of our life as it is right now, and so comforting. What I found on my camera surprised me a little bit. Sure there was sewing and popcorn, ukulele and wooden farm toys, paint brushes and a (growing) puppy. But in nearly every other photo, I accidentally captured what I now am referring to as the 'huddle' - two or three or even four or five of my children's heads joined nearby, nearly touching each other. As they did a puzzle, worked on a craft project, read a book, listened to a story, or otherwise engaged with each other on a normal day.
The thing is, if you had asked me - at the end of that day - how it had been, I quite likely could have welled up with tears at thought of all the bickering and sibling squabbles I remember from the day. And I may have spoken of my worry that surely we all have, as parents, about the state of things. About how they are with one another sometimes. It's been a long winter. And no one knows how to push your buttons like a brother or a sister.
But there, in the camera and in front of me on the screen, I find evidence of the opposite. And being reminded of this, I now see all over my house the remains of those huddles - cards left mid-game as they decided to abandon it all for showing the other the latest skateboarding instead, the piles and piles (and piles) of collaborative paintings left drying, the book reading that led to another that led to just one more for her little sister piled up beside the wood stove. Yes. All is well. They have each other - for better or worse. Mostly, I am reminded, for the better.
