I noticed something the other day: I was just sitting around, smiling. Maybe that's a normal state for your face to be in, but it's not for mine. I'm not a smiley person. I would say I'm content, yes, but not sitting around smiling happy. I am much more of a serious person, complete with frowny crease in my forehead, than I am a smiley one.
I'm sure I was a smiley enough child. I remember laughing a lot. I remember a happy childhood. But somewhere along my road of life, I smiled less and less. Middle school berated my soul, leaving me tired, shy and a little cynical. In high school I decided that my looks were enhanced by an aura of dark and mysterious. By college, I had simply forgotten how to smile.
Until recently. Because here I am, watching some crappy movie on TV while my children nap quietly, and I am smiling. Not some stupid grin. Not a lingering laugh over a joke I heard. Just a contented, happy little smile on my face, sparkling from my eyes, shining from my heart. It's a very light feeling, this little smile.
In the last four weeks since Gavin's birth, I have relearned how to smile. Please do not think that it was my son only who taught me this beautiful trait. Hardly. In truth, it was my whole family - my family of four - who taught me to smile. Nate, Laura, Gavin, and even Riesling. I smile as I watch Laura rush over to her baby brother for a strawberry hug (he gets lots of those). I smile as Gavin coos at my breast. I smile as Nate and Laura giggle over a private joke. I smile at all the love I have at my fingertips. Gavin has made our family so complete (for now). I love my family, and for that I smile.
pouring my heart out
