Photo taken with iPhone 4, edited with Instagram app, Rocketown filter.
I sit facing this doorway for at least two thirds of my day as I feed Mackenzie, cradle her, burp her, and rock her to sleep.
It is directly across from our rocking chair, where I spend so much of my day, watching my world come and go.
Annie, as she strolls in, turns in circles, and plops down on the rug with a groan. Or when she’s walking past on her way to her bed, and pauses to put her head on my lap to get her ears rubbed.
Sydney, as she trots in, tail high, with a toy in her mouth, and teases Annie into a game of tug of war. Or when she walks up to check on Mackenzie, licking the back of her head, and then crawling into her favorite hiding spot under the ottoman.
Chris, usually as he’s passing through from one room to the next, on a phone call or headed out the door. Occasionally, when he sits on the ottoman to put his shoes on and fill me in on his plans for the day. And then late at night, when he pauses in the doorway, sometimes just to smile and check on us, and sometimes to see if I need anything or to bring me hot chocolate.
I know these days of sitting here with Mackenzie won’t last. Soon, she and I will be out in the world together, and she’ll be moving through doorways, from one room to the next, faster than I’ll want.
Many times I get frustrated with feeling stuck in this chair. I grow tired of constantly being needed. I forget that Mackenzie is a gift, and I am so blessed to be her mom. So instead of wishing I was somewhere else, out in the rush of things, part of that frenetic pace I once tried to keep up, I am going to sit here and enjoy these moments while they last.