1 Mother 2 Another

A few years ago, a relative gave me a snow
globe with a Texas skyline in it to remind me of “home”
while living in New York. Now that we’re here, the globe
lives on a high shelf in the library, out of the way of little
hands on a destructive mission. So Maddie had never really noticed
it until yesterday when she happened to be lying on the couch in
the library, gazing pensively upwards, and the sparkles in the
globe caught her eye.


“Mommy, what’s that sparkly thing up there?” she
asked me, sitting up interestedly.


“Oh, that’s a little scene inside a glass room, like a
dollhouse behind a round window, and it’s got sparkly snow
all throughout it,” I said. Maddie was definitely hooked.

“Can I hold it, please?”


Well, I had to encourage that ‘please’, didn’t I?


“Ok, honey, you can hold it, but only if you’re very
careful and only if you stay seated on the couch the whole time.
It’s very fragile, ok?” I admonished as I climbed on a
stool and got the globe down. Maddie nodded obediently, eyes
saucer-wide.


We sat on the couch together and I wound up the music for the globe
(and by the way, the stars at night actually ARE big and bright,
but only DEEP in the heart of Texas, away from light pollution. At
our house, not so much.) before handing it to Maddie. I showed her
how to shake the globe and make the glitter snow fall all around
Big Tex (if you have to ask, I can’t explain it) and the
other monuments, and for several moments Maddie sat there in
silence, occasionally swirling the snow globe or turning it over to
renew the music. I could see she was awestruck, her reverent
breaths only occasionally punctuated by a breathy
“beautiful” as her finger traced a snow fall.


After we’d sat in silent companionship for a long time,
Maddie turned to me. “Mommy?” “Mm, baby girl,
what?” I asked, twirling her hair around my finger.


“Thank you for letting me hold the snow globe,” she
smiled shyly, then went back to staring at the scene.


And these are the moments we treasure.