Friday, August 14, 2009


Sparks from the campfire dance in her glitter-blue eyes, Her Spirit is their Song.

I watch her now as she intently pounds on the keyboard in her nightly ritual of electronic communication with her friends. Occasionally, the rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat of her messaging is interrupted with a giggle and a toss of her hair. I have an overwhelming desire to go to a public computer and take on an alias as of one of her friends.

You see, just yesterday I was the center of her world. I could read an entire magazine while her fragile little fingers intensely knotted one hundred braids in my hair. She would sing to me lullabies, proclaim that I was the world’s most beautiful princess, then whisper a delicate and true “I love you most of all” into my ear.

We would sing and dance and read with each other, not even thinking about what would happen if the neighbors saw us. It was the purist form of love that I have ever known. Those were the days that I cherish most.

Overnight, the rubber duckies in the bathtub became razors, the magic bubbles became styling gel. She stopped defining herself through what I thought of her, and began with the incredible person that she is and wants to be. While she is experiencing the pain and the glory of adolescence, I am also trying to find my place in this chapter of her life. I know I am the fortunate witness to a beautiful and awkward metamorphosis, watching the world take an innocent child and form the soul of a woman.

Today is the day that I will cherish most.

No comments:

Post a Comment