Chocolate Cream Pie: A Meditation

 
 

CHOCOLATE CREAM PIE

Aidan dropped the chocolate cream pie

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.