day by day
February 21, 2012 § 1 Comment
Calendar days pass in tidy, equal squares of time. Mundane moments of routine activities and spontaneous pockets of play create a rhythm of predictable tides. Some days I feel as though I am racing forward moving quickly between errands, household tasks, and miscellaneous commitments. Other days time seems to slumber and the minutes pass in aching stillness as if Father Time’s hands are mischievously holding each second greedily.
Gray skies and cold rain drops have mired today in a lengthy sigh and I catch myself daydreaming of days ahead; sunshine and the anticipation of adventure. Like a child I am counting calendar squares between this day and a days of play. In the weeks ahead my daughter will share a camping adventure with her father; my husband and I will celebrate another wedding anniversary with a quiet night to ourselves; our family will travel for a long anticipated visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s home.
Lost to anticipation my daughter’s dry cough stirred me from daydreams and I found my way to the dark, quiet room where she is resting today. Her lopsided smile beneath watery, sleepy eyes make her seem smaller and younger than her years. Her typically headstrong, playful antics are buried beneath tired limbs and propped up with piles of pillows. It is a quiet day, one whose minutes pass with the forced progress of one walking against a current.
Rather than busy myself with tasks, I am settling into the space beside my daughter. Absorbing a borrowed day from the routine of school and setting aside thoughts of tomorrow. Let the hours pass slowly today, my little girl grows all too quickly.
holding a moonbeam
February 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
My daughter sings an Off-Off-Broadway interpretation of “Do-Re-Mi” intoning Julie Andrews timeless and beloved character Maria while playing independently in her room. I in turn hum a cheerfully content “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria,” the lyrical phrases capturing pieces of my daughter’s spirit in a lovely melody.
She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee. Her dress has got a tear. I have watched my little girl grow from pleading to be hoisted onto a safe tree branch with toddler grunts arms reaching toward the sky to balancing herself in rain boots and princess costumes, tearing her gown while smiling proudly from her perch in our climbing tree. She embraces adventure as eagerly as she slips into costumes; moving with intention and grace all the while unhindered by dirt or scrapes.
She’d out pester any pest. Drive a hornet from its nest. I can imagine her poking a beehive with the same spirited curiosity that inspired willful tugging on puppy dog ears; mischievously and fearlessly testing boundaries. Still, her penitence is real. For all my daughter’s headstrong antics it must be said she does not take any joy from causing harm and her errors are met with genuine tears of remorse. Her heart is as immeasurable as her imagination.
She’s always late for everything. Happily distracted with her own pursuits she is often lost to the boundaries of time, stretching play to capture every drop of sunshine from her day. I can easily imagine her dancing on a hilltop mindless of the passing hours while scavenging for fun and celebrating every miracle of nature.
Many a thing you know you’d like tell her. Many a thing she ought to understand. But how do you make her stay and listen to all you say? Looking into my daughter’s eyes I catch fleeting moments of undivided attention only to have it swept away with the impossibleness of keeping a wave upon the sand. Keeping her still is like trying to catch a cloud and pin it down.
When I’m with her I’m confused. Out of focus and bemused and I never know exactly where I am. Unpredictable as weather, she’s as flighty as a feather.She is gentle, she is wild, she’s a riddle, she’s a child.
My little girl is the heart song that fills my day and I am grateful for the sound of her music; notes of independence and curiosity, creativity and make believe. She’s a problem I do not wish to solve; a moonbeam that shines too brightly to hold within my hand.
finders keepers
January 31, 2012 § 3 Comments
If my son has a singular object that best captures his quiet innocence, then my daughter has an eclectic collection of tiny treasures that capture her whimsical and creative spirit. She finds immeasurable joy in tiny pieces; keeping them in small containers, stuffed in corners, stowed away in drawers, and carried from here to there.
As a toddler, my daughter wobbled through the house clutching small figurines tightly for safekeeping. Later she began packing them into bags and boxes, toting them everywhere; doll accessories, pendants from necklaces, Lego pieces, art supplies, family photographs, and miscellaneous objects scavenged on everyday expeditions for treasure. She creates with them, gifts them, unravels stories with them, and ties memories to them.
There are moments I believe she leaves behind as much as she gathers, sprinkling her chaos with charm and cheer. I look upon my little girl’s company of clutter with an acceptance of her fun loving appreciation for little things in much the same way I marvel at her big brother’s innocent affection for a childhood toy. I find little pieces of their personalities keeping them centered with individual expressions of self. Finding their way and keeping true to themselves.
harmony
January 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
Recently, my little girl was invited to a sleepover birthday party for a friend. My heart stuttered over the word sleepover in much the same way it has each milestone; an emotional hiccup as I accept new acts of independence. This was to be my daughter’s first evening away from family and for all my maternal fussing, I knew that she would do well; confidant and adventurous there was no doubt enthusiasm would guide her through the experience.
Upon arrival the girls gathered close for a picture and I paused to note something greater than my daughter’s milestone. Nestled hip to hip the little girls were a rainbow of diversity. My daughter stood amidst new friends completely unconcerned by their differences and equally comfortable in her sense of self.
A beautiful moment of harmony; friends at peace with and accepting of one another, joined in celebration and play. I could not have dreamed a more perfect experience for my daughter’s first evening away from home and family. A microcosm of her world infused with friendship and kindness, diversity and acceptance.
pardon the way that I stare
January 12, 2012 § 1 Comment
My girl. My daughter. Sometimes when I watch you I sing quietly to myself. You do this, inspire music. From your earliest days, I would gather you near and sing softly Can’t Take My Eyes Off You. I still catch my breath trying to find words for my joy, and then I hear music.
I often follow behind you, trying to imagine what you are thinking; intrigued and curious. You extract adventure from thin air and happy celebrations without cause. Unpredictable moments of passionate anger or sadness leave me bewildered as easily as spontaneous hugs and wise declarations make me humble. You are an enchanting riddle that I am certain will forever challenge my expectations. Some days I want to be more like you and so I marvel when you want to be like me.
Last night I watched you sit with your homework, casually guiding your big brother with his. You have learned naturally to redirect his attention, to draw him into consciousness, to lead him. Your love is unconditional even when your patience is limited. I love you for this and I cannot say it enough, you have a heart that inspires us all to do our best.
As much as you shadow me and guide your brother, you are your daddy’s girl too. You play as easily as you laugh, you love as deeply as you hurt; these are gifts you share with your father. I cannot claim these pieces of you, so I cherish you for possessing them.
You are mine as much as you are your own. My little girl that creates music and smiles, laughter and love.
reading into words
December 20, 2011 § 3 Comments
Eagerly and forcefully my daughter thrusts herself among the pages of books. Frustration and determination clatter noisily, the air around her sparks with energy. Books stacked haphazardly in the window of her room are silent witnesses to her journey, friends she has accumulated along the way.
She began a quiet companion. When I read aloud, my daughter’s eyes would measure my words as I pulled them from the pages of another’s telling. She would watch my mouth willing the story into the air around us. I would monitor her enthusiasm under my lashes bemused by her posture as she leaned into the author’s spell.
In turn, slowly, I became the audience. I celebrated my daughter’s growth, noting her furrowed brow as she curled over the lines of language, conjuring voices, and breathing life into each page. She has journeyed from listener to storyteller, winding her way around self-doubt with perseverance.
Most recently she set aside fiction gathering a dictionary to her side as she nestled into bed. She fell asleep having carefully bookmarked pages with small toys. In the morning she shared each dogeared word with me like colors, twisting and turning them in the light of day so that I might see them more completely.
I am eager for my daughter to paint her world with words, to see through her lens. I am eager for the reader to become the writer.
a gift of presence
December 9, 2011 § 2 Comments
In all the hustle and bustle of the holidays we sometimes lose sight of unwrapped gifts of presence. This year my daughter’s eager anticipation and awareness for the moment has created a sense of wonderment and awe that inspires me to be still.
One evening last week while returning to our quiet suburban subdivision my daughter lead me on a scavenger hunt for a special tree. Having seen the tree one evening with her father, she wanted to share the beauty of her discovery with me. We followed the curves of our neighborhood streets commenting on the lights until rounding a corner and arriving at the tree my daughter sought to share. Her joy lit her smile and we stopped to stretch the moment into a memory.
It would have been simple to drive home and forgo the search. To pass quickly nodding appreciatively. Instead we sat in the moment; marveling at the height of the tree and the endless strand of lights. I was reminded of my daughter’s eager toddler exclamations and spirited efforts to pull me from a task into play and I gave thanks for the tiny Christmas elf that still takes me by the hand and pulls me fully into a moment to gift me greater presence.
singing in the rain
November 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
This morning my daughter reminded me that behind every dark cloud is an opportunity for joy. My lesson began just before the school bell.
I peered out the windows of our home discouraged by the sight of rain. Gloomy and disheartened by dark skies I threw a spontaneous pity party, pouting at the inevitable mess and unavoidable complications to otherwise simple tasks. Loading my daughter into the car for school I marveled at neighborhood streets flowing with water, magnificent and chaotic. As I pulled in front of the school building, my daughter’s face lit up in sheer joy as she extracted her bright pink umbrella. The car door swung open and she lept from the car eager to experience the rain. What was cold, wet, messy and uncontrollable to me was an opportunity for joy to my daughter.
I watched my little girl navigate the puddles, choosing her path mindfully from under the shelter of her pink halo and took note: in life sometimes we have to get a little uncomfortable and embrace an opportunity to find our way, joy is within us.
to my daughter
November 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I see you watching attentively as we navigate new territory with your big brother. Your patience and love is a source of pride each day. When we struggle to balance the demands of the day, you find ways to bring happiness and celebration into our lives with simple sharings and acts of kindness. Your humor and wit breathe impulsive moments of joy amid moments of frustration. Thank you for the special gift of your presence in our days. Love, Mom
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