Tonight, as I rocked and bounced and walked baby Y-Y to the beat of my hand drumming on his back, I imagined I was a Native American woman, dancing my baby to sleep in the long shadows of evening.
I felt alone, holding my heavy baby and the burdens of life. Moving, ever moving, lest the difficulties start anew.
But then, I didn't feel alone. I thought of other mothers in the homes surrounding mine. I thought of mothers in the past, dancing their babies in the moonlight. A never-ending chain of mothers holding their heavy babies and moving, ever moving, until...finally...sleep overcomes the little one.
And mother can sit out of the dance for a moment. Reflect on the day. Rejuvenate herself. So when light appears over the horizon again, she'll be ready to dance through another day.