Maggie calling out in her sleep: “Where is it? Daddy? Where is it?”
Chris, stumbling to bedside: “It’s right here Mags. It just fell off your bed. Here it is.”
Maggie, snuggling with her new comfort item: “Thanks Daddy. I just need it.”
Life is happening. At the onset of this new school year our family finds ourselves adjusting to a new schedule. Coming off a summer where we spent almost all of our time together as a family, Melissa has gone back to work full-time and Maggie has started full-day Kindergarten. Our weeknights are filled with homework, piano lessons, scouting, and dance classes. All of these activities occupy the time we once spent together doing something leisurely. We’re all feeling the crunch and none more than little Maggie.
Tucker is her best friend. He’s her protector, playmate, and confidant. He laughs at all her antics and comes to her aid when she’s been hurt. Tucker makes her feel more special than anyone else in the world.
Maggie doesn’t know exactly how much less time she has with her brother each week but she feels the pinch. She can sense that it’s less and she misses him. She’ll say as much too, asking to go to Scouts with him or inviting him to come to dance classes with her. It’s like she knows she only gets to be this age once and that these young years with her brother are fleeting. Somewhere in her subconscious mind she knows that she needs to embrace every moment while they’re here; wisdom from the actions of a five-year-old.
So it’s not surprising that her long-time comfort items, her Silkies, are sharing some space. Maggie has found something new to make her feel warm, safe, and secure. For Christmas Tucker received a fleece, camouflage robe. He wore it after showers during the winter months. When the weather got warmer he hung it on the closet door knob. There it sat, blending in with the rest of the room, until Maggie claimed it as her own.
She still calls it “Tuckie’s Robe” but for all intents and purposes it now belongs to her. She sleeps with it curled around her every night. She wears it every morning for breakfast. In the evenings she wraps herself in it, disappearing in a heap of green.
To her, the robe is a reminder. It’s a way to wrap himself around her to provide all the comforts her big brother offers even when he’s not there. The robe connects her to him, keeping him close at all times.
To me, the robe is a symbol of the bond the two share and of the relationship they’ve built. It’s a testament to good times and happy memories. It’s also promise of many more to come.
We should all be so lucky as to have a camouflage robe of our own.
