The first night I babysat the children, Anna had been at an evening class. It had ended early, so she came home as I was in the process of reading the kids their bedtime stories (three children = SO many stories). We were all four squeezed onto Kilian’s bed, the bottom bunk of a twin sized bunk bed, when we heard the door front door open and a cheerful “Hallo!” echoed up the stairs.
Kilian responded with the clumsy urgency that only toddlers display. In bare feet and a blue pajama set, he bolted for the top of the stairs, where he pressed himself to the railing, straining to somehow get his face between the bars so he could see down to the entryway. As Anna started up the staircase and he caught a glimpse of her, he jumped and yelled “Mama” as his little body vibrated with excitement.
That, I thought. That is what I want someday. To have someone be so excited to see me that they cannot physically contain their joy.
Fast forward to yesterday. I’m walking from the Oberalm train stop back to the house after a 10 day trip to Greece with my mom. It’s overcast and there’s a slight drizzle as I trudge up the last hill to the house, eager to be able to put down my backpack. As I turn the corner to our street, I see the family’s small blue minivan coming down the drive towards me. I wave and they come to a stop next to me. Lena hops out of the far side of the car and as she runs around to greet me, I smile at Kilian through the car window. Inside, he strains against the bonds of his car seat, tiny fists and feet shaking in the air as he clearly mouths my name in joy. Lena leaps into my arms and I’m the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.
Your G. Lucy used to say that having children meant there were more people to love you.