the tug on my skirt

i am becoming more adept at listening to the tug on my skirt

the one that comes from deep inside me, from the darkness

from the little girl in there with the tears and the snot and the grazes on her knees,

the little one who says,

"that hurt"

or

"i'm scared"

i am becoming more adept at stopping what i am doing,

stopping all the busy-ness and the chatter and the urge to pull the carpet over her

and i am turning my face to her,

kneeling down and saying

"It is ok sweetheart. I am here."

It requires me to not be in the world so much. It requires me to not be busy making plans or having coffee, it requires me to be attentive to the smallest sounds from my heart.

But it also allows me to be heard and held and comforted in just the way i need

And that is good.