to my daughter
June 27, 2016 § 4 Comments
There are many ways I might remember yesterday, but the moment I most wish to capture, I did not see. I can speak only to the minutes before and after, admiring the in between.
You were coveting a small vase at a local art festival with insufficient funds and a determined hopefullness when you asked me if you could approach the artist with an offer for less. I wanted to tell you no; be still, be quiet, be grateful. Let what you have be enough.
Instead I gave you room enough to act. Alone.
I expected the vendor would politely refuse you, but your face told another story.
There was so much joy in your expression; exuberance as you displayed your bright, pink bag.
The artist engaged your question and indulged your request; she sold her work at a fraction of its worth and honored your sense of value in the process.
You were proud, radiant in your enthusiasm as you replayed your victory.
This kind stranger respected the gumption you demonstrated and celebrated your interest in her work by accepting your offer. You taught me a lesson in reckless trust and uncertain effort; leaping toward confidence and gambling hope.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
I love her bravery! And the artist’s response to it. Beautiful. Good job, mama bear.
I should mention that at the start of day my daughter was too intimidated to even ask an artist permission for a photograph to share a work with her Grandma. To say I was blindsided by her unexpected demonstration of bravery would be an extravagant understatement.
The artist was a moment unto itself. I wrestled with the urge to pay the balance and instead ended up piecing together a profusely clumsy thanks for acknowledging and encouraging my daughter in a way entirely unique to their agreement.
That little vase will forever remind us both of something much larger.
And just to watch their faces light up is a treasure in itself Marie.
Thank you for sharing a moment that will last the cosmos with the love that built it 🙂
The beauty of the moment was not lost in the seller’s smile, either. My daughter may have radiated pride, but the seller shone a light all her own.