SwampFire Retreat for Artists and Writers

 

 

 

 

 

Susan Paulus

What More Could I Ask For?

The sky is still dark as I force my eyes open.  The baby’s cry says “I’m cold, wet and hungry”. Not wanting to wake up, but knowing she won’t go back to sleep, I stretch and throw back the covers. Her tears turn into a smile as she pulls herself up to stand at the rail of her crib, jumping up and down on her chubby baby legs, legs that until a few days ago weren’t strong enough to allow bouncing.  I lift her, carry her to the changing table and tickle her tummy as I change her diaper. We head to the kitchen to warm a bottle of milk, then find the rocking chair and cuddle while she drinks. She is now wide awake and ready for a full day. My beautiful baby girl, my heart, my life. What more could I ask for?
Today we are headed to a classroom. I will work on my GED, while she stays in the nursery with four other children, two older and two younger. She seems to enjoy being with them. The toy selection is greater than she has at home and she likes that. The brightly colored building blocks, the soft stuffed animals, the dolls with well-worn clothing and blankets , the books; all are plentiful.  The young women who care for her and the other tots are warm and loving, playful and kind. Working in the nursery is how they are repaying those who helped them earn their own GED. After finishing their high school education, they joyfully  pay it forward. A portion of that repayment includes loving my child.  What more could I ask for?
While she loves the nursery and her little playmates, I love learning. I love the challenge of stretching my intellect, of  training myself to remember, of knowing new facts and putting them to use. I love passing the tests and doing well. I even like to hear what my instructor says about my work. He is often complimentary, but even when there is criticism, he is kind and encouraging.  I realize that my future is in my hands, more importantly, my child’s future is in my hands. And today I feel brave enough to accomplish all the things that I’ve dared myself to believe I can do. I know I can finish these classes, then  find a job that will pay enough to take care of us. I just know that I can.
After today’s classes in English and math, I pick her up from the nursery and we leave to go back home. Pushing her stroller the few blocks to our apartment gets the blood flowing through my body, giving me the energy needed to get through the afternoon and evening. Life seems good today; classes went well, the instructor was flattering, the baby is happy. There is food in the pantry, clean clothes on our backs, the electricity is on, so our home is warm, we are both healthy. What more could I ask for?
She ate at the nursery; I will stretch our food supply by skipping lunch. A nice, warm supper later will be just what we both need. She naps while I study for my next classes. Once she wakes, I sweep and dust, shake a rug or two and start fixing a casserole for supper. Pasta always stretches what is on hand, so we eat a lot of it. Wanting her to stay healthy, I add a hot vegetable and some cold fruit. She enjoys her supper. She laughingly plays the never-ending game of I toss it over the side and mama picks it up. She’s a happy little girl.
It’s dark again, the sun has set, it’s bath time. She loves her bath, just as she seems to love all of life. I dry her off, find soft comfy jammies, fix a warm bottle, read her a bedtime story and rock her to sleep. My beautiful baby girl, my heart, my life. What more could I ask for?
It’s quiet now. Too quiet. It’s lonely now. Too lonely. The question is there, always. What more could I ask for? Maybe, just maybe, please God, could someone love me?


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