Walking Blackwater River at sunset

Lily skipped ahead, her voice carrying on the breeze, while the dogs tugged at their leads, noses twitching at scents. We followed the winding path along the river, where the water mirrored the evening light and the silhouettes of the trees.

We spotted dragonflies hovering like tiny jewels and Lily pointed at the way the trees leaned in to touch their reflections, and squealed with delight when a fish rippled just below the surface. To her, it was a grand adventure. To me, it was magic woven into the ordinary.

I wish moments like these could be bottled. The sound of her laughter against the backdrop of birds calling, the way the sun dipped just behind the trees.

And yet, as I walked behind her, a quiet ache stirred. These are the moments that make motherhood breathtaking, but also the ones that can feel achingly lonely. My husband works so much, and more often than not, it’s just me here to witness her wide-eyed discoveries. Their little gasps of joy, the way she calls out, “Mom, did you see that?”. It’s always me.

Don’t get me wrong, I treasure it with all that I am. But there’s a weight to carrying the magic alone. I want someone to turn to in that moment, someone to share a quick smile.

Walking along the river at sunset reminded me of both things at once – the immeasurable beauty of raising children, and the quiet loneliness of being the stay at home mom. Perhaps one day she’ll look back and remember not just the river and the dogs and the dragonflies, but the way I was always there with her.

Because even if it feels lonely sometimes, there’s no place I’d rather be than right beside her, chasing the light.