I thought about eyes today.
Mostly Bing's soft brown ones with the tiny golden flecks...but other eyes too.
Last night, I was sitting on the sofa trying to read. Both Bing and I have had back pain recently. Actually...hers is more BUTT pain, but whatever. We both spent the weekend camped out like we were 80.
So, there I was sitting on the sofa, my bare feet propped up on the coffee table which is totally AGAINST the rules in this house, but since I am one of the bosses, suck it.
I was waiting for The Amazing Race to come on. (And if you watch...what did you think of that idiotic woman from Big Brother who started whimpering like a four year old, complete with making boo hoo noises behind her hands...and then of course when she took her hands away...there were NO tears! Didn't you just want to slap her silly? God, I wanted to scream at her to STOP this instantly. And of course, her dimwitted boyfriend kept trying to hold her hand and make up...and finally he ducked his head enough to make her agree to still marry him...I kid you not...I would have left her bawling her fake baby tears in the middle of the street and begged someone to please switch partners with me...)
So...um...back to our regularly scheduled blog...
I was sitting barefoot and trying to read while pain shot up and down my back and legs.
I looked up to see Bing sitting on the coffee table (another no-no...yeah, I am one of THOSE parents), facing me. We smiled at each other, joked about what a pair of elderly women we were with all our aches and pains this weekend. She picked up my bare foot and put it in her lap, gently massaging my hammer toe.
I know. The romance is just too much for you, isn't it?
She kept rubbing gently and for some reason, our eyes met and just...held.
And I suddenly felt a hitch in my breath and my heart in my throat. We didn't say a word, she kept rubbing my poor hideous toe back and forth and our eyes stayed locked.
My heart ached for her. Wanting her. Glad she was here with me. Happy to know her.
Finally, we both leaned gingerly towards each other, and she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I love you so much, babe. So, so much."
I swallowed hard.
"So..," I said. "Wanna go make some eggs?" (If you've followed my blog for a while, you know that this is our quaint way of saying...WANNA FUCK? And we were shameless and almost unbelievably nauseating when Liv was younger. We would sit at the dinner table and pretty much talk in code about fucking each other's brains out, talking about how much we love scrambled eggs or omelettes, nice and goopy...)
She smiled back, ruefully.
"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "I have the inclination, but not the strength!"
This made us both laugh out loud and we settled for some more time making eyes at each other and a few very loving kisses.
Bing put my foot back on the table and looked over her shoulder at me as she rose.
"Did we just have us a lil' moment, there, sweetie? It felt like a nice lil' moment."
I agreed that yes, we had us a moment.
All with our eyes.
Later that night, I went in to Liv's bedroom to smooch her goodnight. She was tucked up reading Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. It pains me to say that she does not share the love of William Shakespeare that I do. When I saw her lugging home Shakespearean tomes, I practically cried with happiness, told her that he was brilliant, that she was in for a treat! She has since told me that I am insane. That she can't make heads or tails of his writing and much prefers math, thank you very much.
"At least, math makes sense!"
I've tried sitting with her and putting his gorgeous sonnets into every day modern English. She is not agog. She regards this reading assignment as punishment. Even when I rented Franco Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet and sat clutching her hand while we watched it, she gave me looks of incredulity and rolled her eyes as I sat sobbing when Juliet held up the slim tube of poison, crying, "Oh churl! drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after?"
She isn't digging Willie.
So, when I went in to say goodnight, I didn't wax poetically about her reading material, but sat down carefully next to her and petted Socks until she reached the end of a line and stopped, putting the book down, spine up, and smiling at me.
"Goodnight, my sweet Livvie," I said.
"'Night, mother," she said, coming up to place a smacky kiss on my lips. "I love you, sleep well. No bedbugs or bad dreams, okay?
I said okay.
And our eyes met briefly in pure mother/daughter love.
That happens less and less now that she is nearing her teens. But it does happen and I do love it so much.
When Liv was a baby, I would always rock her to sleep. My sisters told me that I was spoiling her rotten, that I was robbing her of the valuable lesson of self soothing.
I always thought that was nonsense. Why on earth should my daughter have to learn to self soothe when that was what I was there for? Soothing her fears, helping her fall into her dreams, smoothing her soft silky golden blonde hair away from her face.
I loved rocking her. I confess that I often spent her entire nap time holding her. I would plan to get laundry done or lay down myself for a brief siesta, but often ending up holding her closely, timing my breathing to hers, loving our closeness.
She never had to self soothe herself to sleep until she was about five or six and then it was because she wanted to do it herself, not because I insisted on it.
And often, in that time when I was holding her and her eyes were becoming milky with fatigue and letting go...that was when our eyes would meet and hold and we would fall into each other's souls.
We would stare dreamily at each other, besotted with love. A mother's love, a daughter's.
I miss those days. Now, I settle for times when our eyes meet for a brief flash of togetherness before we leave each other. I know that when I am on my death bed, it will be her eyes that soothe me, trading places with me finally.
When I was in high school, I learned that I had the power to seduce boys (and a few girls too.)
I liked having this power very much and used it to my advantage many times. I remember smiling inwardly as some guy or girl sat falling headfirst into my eyes while we sat on my college dorm bed or on a green lawn on campus. It was a heady experience to have that kind of power.
As I've aged, I've had to surrender that power. I no longer can be a mermaid singing a siren song to some limp eyed sailor or sailoress. Now, I am an older woman and I don't even get a second look from that hunky looking guy in the produce aisle. I might get a bag boy to carry out my groceries but that has nothing to do with my sex appeal and everything to do with looking frail and well...elderly.
So, Bing and I sharing a lil' moment there is a luminous gift for me.
And hey...she was holding my HAMMER TOE.
I think that says that I still have it, dudes.
Think about all those eyes in your life. The hot lusting eyes of your partner. The sweet helpless eyes of your babies, the warm, infectious laughing eyes of your friends.
Aren't we so lucky to have all those eyes?