I Was There

He was halfway down the stairs before I even knew he was awake.

I ran toward him but I was bracing for the usual. The tears, the "why weren't you next to me" cry that usually starts my morning.

Instead, my four-year-old gave me the biggest smile. I felt my entire body exhale as I saw his eyes still half asleep but lit up.

I scooped him up and sat down on the bottom stair, his legs almost too long to fit on my lap. He let me hold him longer than usual, as he muttered "I wasn't scared because I knew you would be downstairs, mama."

In this moment, he is the youngest he will ever be.

"I want to be a more present mom." Every mother says it, while the reels remind us every day to slow down and savor these "golden years."

"I cannot wait for them to go back to school." Every mother thinks it. Most of us don't say it out loud. Modern life leaves no room for slowness. Most days, we are too exhausted to notice a tender moment, let alone savor it.

"Be present" is the message every reel sends. But your body is running 101 mental tabs at once. The 9am board meeting. The pediatrician you still have to call back. The investor email you've been drafting in your head since 5am. Presence does not arrive on demand in a nervous system this overloaded.

Most mornings I will miss the moment. Most mornings the coffee will be all I see. But on Thursday, for a few minutes, I was there. That has to be enough. Some weeks it will be.