I’m anchored to a familiar perch, a red stool at our kitchen bar. It’s one of my favorite writing spots, overlooking a squirrel’s playground every day and a bunny sanctuary on my luckiest days.
She rounds the kitchen corner in a burst of morning energy, her bare face and pony tail reminding me of days gone by, when she was seven or eight not 18 going on 19. Forty-five minutes earlier I had slipped beside her in bed.
* * * * *
“Sorry I’m waking you up later than you asked,” I whispered and she croaked an unintelligible reply and turned from her side to her stomach. It was invitation as far as I was concerned.
I combed my fingers through her hair. Once silky golden, her curls had matured into coarse dirty blond tangles. Still beautiful, just different. She never uses a brush because that would make her hair “big;” she has no regard for Texas or the 80s.
I follow the strands down her neck and brush them to the side, rubbing her back. “I remember when my hand covered your entire back,” and she responds with a muffled chuckle. “Scratch with your fingernails,” she begs. Up and down, back and forth, I carve memory into this moment.
* * * * * * *
With bible and notebook in hand, she’s headed outside for what she calls her “Jesus time.” Her discipline and devotion and love for God is so pure, and I admire that in her. I covet it.
She lays them on the counter, deciding to toast an English muffin first. Out of the blue she declares, “I’m so thankful God gave me the perfect mother.”
She doesn’t play fair–this I’ve long known–and I wasn’t prepared for her pronouncement. Tears from no where fill my eyes and I blurt, “Don’t leave me!” then instantly, “No, you need to leave me!” and she understands I’m talking about college.
I know it must sound like I’m a basket case at times, or maybe a helicopter parent, but really, I’m fine. I do feel the depth and ache of my first child leaving home, true, but it is what we’ve always desired for our children: healthy independence. I’d be much more sad if she were clinging to us and dreading this wonderful season of life.
She knows how to fix this quickly.
“I mean, you aren’t too perfect, the annoying kind, but what kind of mom would still take the time to lie down with me and play with my hair and scratch my back?”
Her English muffin now slathered in strawberry jam, she picks up her books and heads out the door, leaving me buried under a pile of memories and dreams…
and a single prayer. No, a praise to God–
Thank you for giving me the perfect daughter.
I guess that makes us even.
awhhh… your recent posts are really pulling me in. Thank you for sharing from your life. You make me smile, help me see beyond the toddler stage, help me want to make memories now.
Ah! I’m all teary at my desk! Beautiful. As mama to an 18-month old, can’t even imagine sending one off. Especially one that sounds so great!
I agree with Kelly! It’s so hard sometimes to believe that life goes beyond nursing, potty training and temper tantrums (well, maybe that last one sticks around forever). This post made me want to lay down with my little girl and stroke her hair while my hand still covers her entire back. 🙂
When you are in the thick of it, it seems like they will be little forever. I see daily that they won’t and this post makes me remember to take it all in and remember them little. *tear*
Sigh. I remember this summer, the one following my daughter’s graduation, the push and pull of letting her go. Beautiful words, beautiful images here. It will go by all-too-quickly and yet not-soon-enough. And you’ll see, God is good.
Okay, now I am crying…
The days are long but the years fly by….you shared those words with me years ago! My day has been long and you turned my perspective completely around… I’m going to try to rub someone’s back!
Sigh. Just a big, sappy sigh. All I’ve got.
She’s right and you’re right! You both are RIGHT! All the boys are pretty perfect too!
Wow, Robin. I could have written this.
The pull to have them home is strong when they are going the farthest. Mine is going to Malawi in 3 days and I all of a sudden want her around all the time to soak up every last drop of her that I can.
What was it…”Tears from no where fill my eyes”? Me too, thanks for such a lovely post. Congratulations on a lovely -and thanks for helping me to remember to savor each moment with my 9-year old. 🙂
Perfect post. Tears (yours and mine) and all.
xoxo
*tears*
Made.Me.Cry.
Crying. Oh my heart.
Robin! You are not playing fair with this post!! I know my little baby girl will be all grown up much too soon. I don’t need another reminder! 🙂
Here’s my praise to you – thank you for writing the perfect post. Excellence, thy name is Robin. I needed these tears, friend. Thank you.
Kelly, can you tell–I’ve been inspired lately :). I’m not writing nearly as often as I used to, but when I do I’m LOVING it!!! And if in any way I’m encouraging you to savor the here and now? Well, that just blesses my socks off!!!
Rae, when you’re sitting where I’m sitting, the perspective is weighty. When my kids were toddlers, I couldn’t imagine the teen years either. And then, dang it…I blinked… 😉
Melissa, You (and others) are inspiring another kind of post :). Thank you!!! And trust me, it ain’t all perfect all the time, but the good so far outweighs the struggle, it’s easy to write about, ya know?
Ashley, perfectly said. **passes tissue** 🙂
Nancy, yes! yes! You get it, absolutely. We’ve been there, done that–where’s our tee shirts?? 🙂
Lora, YOU???? 😉 (I KNOW you know what I mean!!!)
Bebe, How much do I love that my sister and SIL commented right beside each other??? (a lot) I k.n.o.w. your days can be looooonnnnnngggg and I just wish I lived closer to help :). We could have fun some of the time and you could get a break other times!!! That thought makes me happy!
Cindy, 🙂
Charles, got nothin’ but mad love for ya friend :).
Headless Mom…oh…my…word. That is NOT within hugging (or driving) distance! My daughter is destined for mission work, and though that thrills me it hurts me, too. College away is prep for that. {{{{{hugs}}}} to YOU!
The Soap Sister, you know…I really DO want to encourage younger moms with this message. I know we’re all told a thousand times “time flies” but now I feel that flight. Thanks for your encouragement back to me!!
Malia, Jo-Lynne & Heather? The three of y’all commenting in a row? **love** (comments AND y’all!)
Nicole, **tissues** for you, too :).
Mary, uh, oh…I don’t wanna be in your doghouse :). Honestly, though…I don’t think any of us can hear this message enough. For a lot of reasons…. #cryptic, I am. 😉 🙂
Liiiiiiisssssaaaaaaaa…I’m so glad you happened to read this yesterday! **IF** it helped in the moment, especially :).
Mercy, woman. This is beautiful. God bless you, continually.
Just getting caught up on blogs from this week and I had to stop and say you are really tugging at my heartstrings with this one. Since I’ve been through this, and still am going through it, you got it so right. We want to hold them close and yet we know we have to let them go. It’s just not easy. Next year, when there is one less person at your dinner table, you’ll want to cry so many times. And yet you’ll be happy that she is exactly where she is supposed to be.
Oh motherhood. It’s a constant stream of conflicting emotions.
Yes, you do make people cry. Beautiful and I so hope to have such a loving relationship with each of my girls as they mature. You are a good Mamma, Robin!
This is so beautiful Robin. So beautiful.
Beautiful. I now get to keep my granddaughter Lola usually four days a week (7:30 am to 5 pm). She is two now and I have to remember this age doesn’t last too long. i am blessed to be part of her life. I hope and pray I do well with my opportunity.
And now I’m crying. My oldest just turned 6 and I’m a little aghast at how quickly time is going. But it’s so wonderful at the same time. Thanks for sharing!
Beautiful. Loved this.
Sweet, sweet story, Robin. I haven’t even met her (or you, for that matter) but I know that your girl is growing into an amazing woman.
{{love}}
What a beautiful post! I hope that I am that “perfect”mother to my children as well. You have obviously raised a beautiful child. Congratulations!!
I don’t know if any of y’all are checking back in but your comments? They blow the nicest air up my skirt…thank you from the bottom of my heart!! 🙂
Though I loved writing this post, it’s not one of the ones I thought would resonate with anyone else; that it has, is blessing I don’t take for granted.
This was so good. I felt like I was reading about my daughter, right down to the scratching the back. When she’s home from school, I can find her most often outside with Jesus. I to have shed many a tear. Check out my post called A Different Kind of Expectant Mother. This will give you perspective from the other side of saying goodbye. http://brenda-thethingsiponder.blogspot.com/2011/05/different-kind-of-expectant-mother.html
It’s so hard sometimes to believe that life goes beyond nursing, potty training and temper tantrums (well, maybe that last one sticks around forever).
beautiful.
Just. Beautiful.
After having three boys I was finally blessed with the daughter I prayed for for years, that I thought would never happen. I love my boys to pieces and wouldn’t trade them for anything, but to have that mother daughter bond was something I yearned for that I never experienced with my own mother. I hope and pray that I can hear those words your daughter spoke to you and that I can have a wonderful relationship with her. Lovely post, just beautiful.
Beautiful. You move me to love the crazy, busy little kids moments so much more each day.