I love this time of year. School and schedules are winding down and the anticipation of summertime fun is ramping up. The lull between the two is one of the sweetest spots for me because it engenders slower-paced moments, playing with James in the yard, watching dusk fade to night from the hammock.
James has recently taken to asking me (very frequently), "Mommy, when your brain DIDN'T get hurt, you ran fast, right?" Admittedly, the questions stings a bit, though I try not to romanticize the past too much, and I answer him, "Yes, I ran faster, but I actually wasn't much of a runner before my brain got hurt anyway".
The other night, Jay brought home a little plastic horseshoe set and tried to wrangle James and I into playing. Naturally, James wanted to be on his Daddy's team, to which Jay sweetly re-directed him to be Mommy's teammate instead. I shakily and perhaps a bit annoyedly stepped up to the mark. Were it not for the hammock stand balancing me, I might have fallen over, and were it not for the neon colors, I would not have been able to see the silly horseshoes. I awkwardly swung my arm back and let it fly. Like something out of a movie, my horseshoe sailed through the air and squarely rung the post.
Jay and I laughed at my good luck, but James stood wide-eyed, perhaps shocked at the first time he had seen his Mommy do something somewhat physically impressive in his short memory. He let out a "Go Mommy!" I must say, it was all I could do not to cry right then and there, but I tried to put on a "cool Mommy" face. James was totally fine with being on Mommy's team after that.
Try as I might, I could not replicate that first perfect throw, in fact, the rest of them got worse. After a while, I decided to not push my luck anymore and lose the slight newfound credibility I had gained in James' eyes. That cinematic, winning shot moment was just a moment, but it was a God-winking at me moment. I am further convinced that those are the best moments of all.