It’s almost midnight, almost a new day. Something happened today, something only I’ll be able to tell you about because Jenna, your nanny, probably won’t be a part of your life anymore.
We were swimming in the pool, and it was a beautiful day, July 1st. It was after dinner, the sun was going down. I was at the far end with Ben and you and Maya were getting ready to come in and join us. Jenna was helping Maya get ready.
You, Max, with that entire attitude packed into a tiny almost three-year old person must have wandered down the steps. I surface and I see you and you’ve left the steps, and the only things above the water were your eyes. They were big and scared, and looking at me. You were drowning, Max.
I called out and moved towards you, Jenna was the one who jumped in and pulled you out, the water was thick around me I couldn’t get there fast enough. But your eyes were so big, the eyes of a little child with the whole world to see.
I didn’t have time to think anything in the short second of everything, but now that I’m sitting on the floor of your room, able to hear your even breathing behind me, I have hours to think. I almost let you die, Max; I almost didn’t take care of you.
I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you, really. I need all of the weights to keep me tied to earth so I don’t float away to heaven. You’re one of the reasons to live, and I think maybe you’re giving my life purpose. I am here to protect you, and I have to be on earth to do that. All of that stuff people talk about, guardian angels and nonsense, I don’t believe in it.
You’re going to grow up and not be able to fit in the crook of my arm like you do now. I won’t be able to kiss you on your little baby cheek or have you hold your arms tight around my neck when you’re being carried on my back. You love that. I’m going to miss that.
I want to freeze time when it’s me almost seventeen, you almost three. But then I think of all the wonderful things that you’re going to see. It’s good to keep moving forwards. Your life will be so different than mine, better. Right now, hearing all of that oxygen being cycled through your little body, I feel peace. Peace is something I don’t feel very often, but it’s here now. I was scared today, and there’s still a lot of things to be scared for, but there’s so much else. I love you, Max.
Always and forever, Cozy
Lovely.
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