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"Three and six is what?", she had asked from behind me, her presence creeping up and for a moment all I could think was please don't step on the back of my ankles. It was late. I was tired. I dug up four letters-
"What?" I ask her at the top of the stairs, where I finally understood my grandparents, many years ago, slowly and steadily unpacking three U-Hauls spilling out with Life, taking days and weekends and months to re-settle themselves into a one story home.
She looked up at me, studied my face, I straightened a picture frame in the hallway.
"Three. And Six. What is it?" She beamed. I was annoyed.
I forget who I was before this daughter, this child who seems to be a creation of all the things I never was, at least, not easily.
One-she is strong. She has an uncanny way of moving on. Literally, tears, deep breath, moving on...
Two-she never gives up. Her determination to accomplish her goals inspires me every single day. Watching her conquer her walkovers and flips and back handsprings fills me with a feeling I can't quite describe and makes me do crazy things like buy her a trampoline for her ninth birthday.
Three-she takes the long way home. She walks slow. It's always Kayla and her friends home last from the walk home from school. Sometimes Aidan and I walk up to meet them on nice days and they'll be sitting on the curb with flowers in their hair or pulling honeysuckles off and burping after sucking out the juice or picking up all the worms they can find and saving them from being stepped on or shouting cheerleading chants until their voices bounce between the rooftops and skip into my ears. I don't remember ever taking such Time for Life...it's something I only learned as I grew older, because I wanted to, because I had to. because holy shit I'm getting old and stoppleaseslowdownthingsaremovingsofast even when they feel slow like honeysuckle drips.
Four-she is an amazingly unselfish sister.
Five-she is so accepting of others, and in tune with her own quirks and imperfections.
Six-her honesty precedes her. As in Mom when Aidan acts so happy to see me it makes me want to cry, not like sad cry, but cause I'm so happy he gets so happy to see me' and yes, sometimes even, "I don't like that shirt I think you should wear the other one, or " I just don't feel like being around anyone right now can you tell him to go away? or "Go away you're annoying".
Seven-she thinks globally and loves the Earth. She wants to start a neighborhood clean up crew ( made up entirely of fairly small children, by the way ) to clean up the occasional wrapper that finds it way here.
Eight-She wants to live with me forever. I know this will change, but right now, her only plan is that she will either live with me or next door to me depending on how many kids she has and what her job is, which brings me to-
Nine: She wants to be like me when she grows up. She wants to be a writer and a mother and maybe take pictures too and also maybe a famous singer or a professional cheerleader and yes, yes, this too, will change but just knowing this, on hard days and tired days and perfectly perfect days too-knowing that my daughter believes she can be anything she wants to be because I told her she could-knowing this is like a blanket over my Life, over my Motherhood...
Watching her grow has given me this sort of contentment that I have done some things right or okay or good enough or at least what I have done has been felt and even when I am tired and spent and not really listening, she is there, just loving me. For me. This baby girl toddler glimpse of a teenager woman little girl who changes her steps to match mine and reads her stories to me and knows all the lines to every Spongebob Squarepants episode and who writes herself notes on her bedroom wall be a nice person- love everyone- get to school on time- be kind to my family--she amazes me every day.
I love you, Kayla. This is a bazillion days late here in cyberspace, but I know you get it.
Keep doing your thing, girl. You so Got This. xoxoxoxo~
"Three. And Six. What is it?" She beamed. I was annoyed.
"Honestly", I half-hiss-whined as my annoyance wrapped around us."You know what three and six is. You're nine, now, seriously stop messing around and get in the shower..."
But she was gone, she had somehow freed herself from the barely visible constraints of my impatience and was laughing with her head back and her hair belonged to a mermaid and it's silky soft honey-apple scented ends teased the floor and she did a backbend and my heart exploded and I wanted to scoop her into my arms and hug her forever and ever with her upside down grin.
"You got it!" She exclaimed and twisted herself to the left then the right and then was in front of me, grin right side up.
"Oh, good," I kissed the top of her forehead and stole her scent silently and steered her bony shoulders towards the bathroom because this is my daughter, the lover of all things and the princess of distraction.
"Isn't that cool?" she half shrugged and leaned in towards the bathroom sink mirror. Her nose was crinkled and she put her face up to her own and she looked into her own eyes and backed away and raised her eyebrows at herself and said to me in a funny sort of voice. "Mom, if you take your new age and split up the numbers and add them together it's three and six. And that's nine, which is my new age and I just think it's cool I was thinking about that. You know, cuz we're B (hip check) F (double hip check) F's."
"That is cool," I smiled. Because it is. And I hadn't thought about it. I inhaled deeply to find the air that my guilt was stealing and pulled her in close to me and for a second the world stopped spinning and I just held her there in my arms in our bathroom before her shower in the middle of Suburbia as rain hit the roof and echoed through the fan in the ceiling and her arms were spaghetti around me long and endless and her fingernails sparkled in the towel rack and our hair was mermaid hair in the mirror and-
"Hey Mom, you know what else? "
"What baby?" I hoarse whispered into the top of her head and rocked her because I love you I love you I love you and I want her to know how much and I never want her to wonder and I feel so horrible for being annoyed and for not really listening and barely half caring because she had thought how cool it was that I add up to her.
She had thought about her birthday followed by my birthday and she had daydreamed and she had conjured up this notion and tried to share it with me walking up the steps to her shower but I was done- spent- annoyed- breathy and-
She had thought about her birthday followed by my birthday and she had daydreamed and she had conjured up this notion and tried to share it with me walking up the steps to her shower but I was done- spent- annoyed- breathy and-
"Whenever I walk behind you going up the steps, if we are having opposite feet, I switch mine. So they're the same."
"You do?"
"Yup. I always do. I don't know when I started doing that in my head but I do it every time. Isn't that funny?"
"I think it's pretty cool, actually. And it makes me feel so loved. And super lucky.", I replied.
"Why?"
She pulled away and started closing the shower curtain and I told her all the things she knows and all the things I hope she knows and I said the words into the mirror and I watched myself talk as the bathroom filled up with steam and I drew a big heart on the mirror with my finger and I wrote I love you, BFF! on the inside of the steam-heart and wiped away a guilt-or happy-or tired-so tired tear and blew a kiss for her to catch in her shower, which she probably washed into her mermaid hair with conditioner and she is nine and I am thirty six and we add up to each other only the thing is I forget who I was before her.
I forget who I was before this daughter, this child who seems to be a creation of all the things I never was, at least, not easily.
One-she is strong. She has an uncanny way of moving on. Literally, tears, deep breath, moving on...
Four-she is an amazingly unselfish sister.
Five-she is so accepting of others, and in tune with her own quirks and imperfections.
Seven-she thinks globally and loves the Earth. She wants to start a neighborhood clean up crew ( made up entirely of fairly small children, by the way ) to clean up the occasional wrapper that finds it way here.
Nine: She wants to be like me when she grows up. She wants to be a writer and a mother and maybe take pictures too and also maybe a famous singer or a professional cheerleader and yes, yes, this too, will change but just knowing this, on hard days and tired days and perfectly perfect days too-knowing that my daughter believes she can be anything she wants to be because I told her she could-knowing this is like a blanket over my Life, over my Motherhood...
Watching her grow has given me this sort of contentment that I have done some things right or okay or good enough or at least what I have done has been felt and even when I am tired and spent and not really listening, she is there, just loving me. For me. This baby girl toddler glimpse of a teenager woman little girl who changes her steps to match mine and reads her stories to me and knows all the lines to every Spongebob Squarepants episode and who writes herself notes on her bedroom wall be a nice person- love everyone- get to school on time- be kind to my family--she amazes me every day.
I have woken up every day for the past nine years in awe of the person she is now and was and is becoming. I wonder if she will ever understand how important she is to me. How I, too, sometimes walk behind her and match my steps to hers, my amazing little BFF.
I love you, Kayla. This is a bazillion days late here in cyberspace, but I know you get it.
Happy Ninth Birthday. You make me proud and fill my heart up every day with more love than I could ever describe with words. Or pictures. Or pictures and words. That is how much I love you.
Keep doing your thing, girl. You so Got This. xoxoxoxo~
