During tonight’s Supermoon lunar eclipse, my daughter, niece and I laid on the concrete looking at the sky, heads together. We tried to take selfies that turned out ridiculous and laughed joyfully at our failing attempts.
When I couldn’t see anything for a long time, I chalked it up to cloud cover or city lights blocking the view of the moon, but right before we gave up, I saw a red hazy circle. Continuing to look at it, the hue became brighter and our experience had begun.
My daughter insisted on me staying outside with her to watch the whole eclipse process. At first I was hesitant, but she pushed me along. I knew she wanted/needed to spend time with me, so I sat down on our front porch chair and let her 12-year-old, 5′ 10″ frame sit on my lap.
We cuddled for an hour, rocking back and forth. I sang her favorite lullabies “You are my Sunshine” and “Baker Baker” by Tori Amos (not a conventional lullaby, but it works all the same).
Enjoying the nighttime air and silence with my baby girl was a precious gift, a reminder that my “conditions” aren’t just about me. A reminder that I have something every moment of everyday to fight for: my girls, and especially my baby.