I'm thinking of you today.
And I have something I want to tell you.
Someday you're going to find yourself folding clothes in the same room that you brought her home to. To your great shock the labels will read "Size 12", not "12 months". You'll look at the soft yellow walls that you've been putting off painting (bright apple green, because she's fearless in her color choices), and realize that she's growing at light speed. The sunshine tinted walls were perfect for a baby, a little girl who brought sunshine into a room as she exploded into it, but it really IS time for the green.
You'll put the underwear away and be surprised (even though YOU bought them) that there are training bras. Her shirts will still be modest enough, because you're buying those, too, and still have a say in THAT, but they'll be stronger in color and message. These aren't the sweet little lace suntops that you remember putting away just yesterday...10 years ago. She might have camouflage jeans for you to tuck away, and you'll smile because you understand she's trying to connect with her dad at this odd girl-woman stage.
Instead of being just another chore to check off your list, you'll discover that doing laundry has given you a very personal, very sweet moment of reflection and insight. It may be akin to the feeling you had when you put her in her crib in that yellow room for the first time and thought, "Well, baby...here we go! What an adventure THIS is going to be...".
Only THIS round, there'll be apple green walls for a background.
Brace yourself.
With much love, empathy and prayers for you in your adventure,
The Farmer's Wife
3 comments:
I'm not sure if this is for me or not. I hate to assume and sound so self-involved. But I was touched very deeply by it nonetheless. And it brought a tear to my eye. Or two. While I'm supposed to be dissertating in this coffee shop. Thank you and love you.
Yes ma'am. When they get to this age, it won't be long until you are packing up to go to college. And when you look back, you will wish you could do it all over again. Treasure the moments.
Oh, Sara H., it WAS for you. But it's so awkward to just say, "Dear Sara, (Take notes, here!)" :)
Love YOU, too!
(Aunt Bert, you're one of the people who have taught me to pause and appreciate all the little things that sometimes get lost in our busy journey. Love YOU, TOO!)
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