after the storm

January 30, 2009

It is nap time. And I find that the quiet in the apartment mirrors my inner feelings . . . watching the snow fall outside as I muse on the cycles of childcare. In this case, it is the post-meltdown calm that I contemplate. As I tried to explain in conversation earlier today, one never quite gets immune to the power of a distressed child: somehow, no matter how many teary sessions you have lived through, the moment is always new and all-consuming in its terrible immediacy. And so once she is happy again, it is as if you have permission to breath–and consequently, the peace is so much sweeter than if there had been no crisis prior to it.


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