Bronwyn at Eight
She is eight. I would like to freeze her at this age.
Today we had a delightful conversation in the Target snack bar while Caitlin was at her violin lesson. It was not so much the depth or content of the dialogue; rather it was her intensity and innocence about life. It was one of those great parental circumstances when you know the moment is special or perhaps, sacred and will disappear like vapor. As I sat with her, I had this instance where I was totally taken in by her. I could feel the future and saw myself remembering her there in Target (of all places) with her big blue eyes, tousled hair and her retainer sitting on the table as she is telling me all about her visit to the gym or what happened on the last episode of Full House.
I want to freeze her like this, a little girl with long legs and arms talking about how much she loves little babies and how she wants to take ballet and will I ever have another baby...pleeeeeeease?
I want to remember how open and funny she is. I want to remind myself that out of the blue at precisely 4:06 pm in Target she promised me she would never smoke because it would probably kill her and why would people keep making things that would kill people?
I will miss this certainty of innocence; this time of her unfeigned life when it would be fine if I had a baby and it was not “okay.” She would still love her even if she didn’t have a hand like the little baby at the gym.
I have been a single parent all week and as you know that can be stressful. But it is moments like today in the hustle and bustle of a busy consumer temple which remind me how special a child’s life is. This time will never be repeated. I am reminded of the importance of being present in every moment of life because, as some wise words I recently read so perfectly put it, "That which we are present to is that which we are becoming."
2 comments:
Wow,
I had a similar moment with Jake last week. He's 9 going on 7. We were riding in the car and while I don't remember specific things he told me, I had the same feeling you did. I wanted to freeze the moment. Freeze the age. Freeze the innocence and the dimples. Freeze the sparkle in his eyes and the long lashes.
I'm sure those that don't keep their children at home have those moments too, but the opportunity for them is smaller.
Jessi wants to go to school next year. I think her mother and I would be the ones with separation anxiety.
We miss you and your family.
DC
I teared up when I read this post because I've felt that over the past few days. Serenity has told me of her summer adventures, asked me questions of life, shown me her advancing piano skills and held my hand tightly when she doesn't want me to go. We miss you:)
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