Thursday, August 23, 2012
Chocolate Cream Pie: A Meditation
I spent an hour preparing
My little boy was only in pre-k
He went to take a look at his favorite dessert
Setting up in the refrigerator
His kid-sized hands reached up to better see
To feel, to taste
His sensations took over, compelling his arms forward
His small frame standing atop tippy toes
With begging hands reaching up
Down toppled the chocolate pie onto the floor waiting below
Where he stood shocked and surprised
His happy moment shattered
Because he knew he had to tell his mama
And that she would probably yell
Even writing this I feel a twinge of sadness, see his tear stained cheeks and hear the echo of his sobs through time. He is nearly twelve and entering Middle School in a couple of weeks; and still I am sorry for my sharp response, my reaction and my angry defense as if he meant it, as if he really meant to reach up into that refrigerator and drop that pie. It is absurd to think back on my harshness, almost humorous, as if for him witnessing a beloved chocolate pie tumble to the floor by his little boy feet wasn’t punishment enough.
I extend gentleness to myself sitting here on my meditation mat listening to the wind and the water and traffic and my neighbor’s breathing. My heart yearns to love that little boy who dropped the pie, my heart yearns to love my neighbors, my heart yearns to love myself in that long past moment of yelling at Aidan and my heart yearns to love myself right now in this moment.
It was a sad moment, an accident very easily remedied and cleaned up; some accidents cannot be fixed so simply. And, it makes me remember and laugh a little at my harsh response, wondering why I yelled so loudly. I remember hugging him a few minutes later and his hugging me right; even more delicious than a chocolate cream pie.