It was 2:40 p.m. I'd spent the day doing housework, listening to music, watching TV... nothing spectacular. It was a day like every other day before it and like many days after it would be as well.
I heard the roar of the school bus going up the road. "Won't be long now," I murmured to myself, a slow smile on my lips.
Five minutes later, the storm door slammed. I heard a thump as her kitbag hit the floor, a couple of flubbling sounds as the winter boots came off and rolled a bit - and, wait for it - everything drowned out in a sound that was so common now that I didn't jump anymore.
"YYYYIPPEEEEEEEEE!" she whooped at the top of her lungs.
I smiled. She'd held herself in all day at school and it just HAD to come out.
She's what a lot of parents might call a "difficult" child. I'd say rather that in comparison to other children, she's always been "more." More perceptive, more intuitive, more intense, more sensitive, more adventurous. I can't say that nurturing her hasn't been a challenge when she and I are so different in personality, but I CAN say that she has brought a never-ending source of variety and spice to my life. Her positive attitude, her faith, her humour have brightened my days and inspired me, even given me strength to face some of the hardest times in our lives. There have been times that I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't been there to say that everything was going to be okay.
And it was.
I don't know quite how or when it happened. I think it might have been while I was dealing with finding myself after decades of being wrapped up in other people (and not in a good way), but she just ... grew up. All of a sudden I looked around and I was ten years older - and - so was she. It caught me unawares.
And now she's talking about leaving. Not just to get her own apartment in the city, but to go half a continent away into another country. Never mind the travel cost, the price of health care, or the rules and regulations surrounding visitors to that country and how long they can stay, or whether they can work there (I've heard the job market is fiercely competitive!)
No, never mind all that. I will miss her presence... that indomitable, relentless, boundless optimism. And the funny things she says and does - she's had me laughing so many times - so hard the tears stream down my face and my stomach muscles ache. I will miss knowing about her day, her friends, her hopes and fears. I will miss watching her care for her friends, witnessing her tenacity and her loyalty first-hand. In my mommy-heart, I still hear her coming home, shouting at the top of her lungs from the sheer joy of living, of being home. And I wonder where that little girl went, and at what point she said goodbye. Part of me - the part that wasted so many years - wonders what I could have done or said differently.
I hope she knows that she is loved, so very much! I trust that she knows that her father and I believe in her, want the best for her, and will always stand our ground if we need to defend her. I hope she understands that she can always come to us - that our door is open. I hope that she will always WANT to come to us.
To come home.
I heard the roar of the school bus going up the road. "Won't be long now," I murmured to myself, a slow smile on my lips.
Five minutes later, the storm door slammed. I heard a thump as her kitbag hit the floor, a couple of flubbling sounds as the winter boots came off and rolled a bit - and, wait for it - everything drowned out in a sound that was so common now that I didn't jump anymore.
"YYYYIPPEEEEEEEEE!" she whooped at the top of her lungs.
I smiled. She'd held herself in all day at school and it just HAD to come out.
She's what a lot of parents might call a "difficult" child. I'd say rather that in comparison to other children, she's always been "more." More perceptive, more intuitive, more intense, more sensitive, more adventurous. I can't say that nurturing her hasn't been a challenge when she and I are so different in personality, but I CAN say that she has brought a never-ending source of variety and spice to my life. Her positive attitude, her faith, her humour have brightened my days and inspired me, even given me strength to face some of the hardest times in our lives. There have been times that I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't been there to say that everything was going to be okay.
And it was.
I don't know quite how or when it happened. I think it might have been while I was dealing with finding myself after decades of being wrapped up in other people (and not in a good way), but she just ... grew up. All of a sudden I looked around and I was ten years older - and - so was she. It caught me unawares.
 |
| Got this photo at THIS SITE |
And now she's talking about leaving. Not just to get her own apartment in the city, but to go half a continent away into another country. Never mind the travel cost, the price of health care, or the rules and regulations surrounding visitors to that country and how long they can stay, or whether they can work there (I've heard the job market is fiercely competitive!)
No, never mind all that. I will miss her presence... that indomitable, relentless, boundless optimism. And the funny things she says and does - she's had me laughing so many times - so hard the tears stream down my face and my stomach muscles ache. I will miss knowing about her day, her friends, her hopes and fears. I will miss watching her care for her friends, witnessing her tenacity and her loyalty first-hand. In my mommy-heart, I still hear her coming home, shouting at the top of her lungs from the sheer joy of living, of being home. And I wonder where that little girl went, and at what point she said goodbye. Part of me - the part that wasted so many years - wonders what I could have done or said differently.
I hope she knows that she is loved, so very much! I trust that she knows that her father and I believe in her, want the best for her, and will always stand our ground if we need to defend her. I hope she understands that she can always come to us - that our door is open. I hope that she will always WANT to come to us.
To come home.
No comments:
Post a Comment