"i have so much to tell you, mommy!" - the words she all but busted out once we were finally alone in our car after a long day. she had saved up every bit of goodness that had happened in her day just for me...stories of scoring her first playground soccer goal and sharing the same birthday as a college football player who had come to read to her class...stories that meant the world to her.
and
"you have to promise not to tell! double pinky promise not to tell! okay?" - the first real secret she has shared with me...one of huge importance to a little girl, and made even more special because her older friend had chosen to share it with her.
and
"just a little longer, mommy...this is my favorite place to be.." (mine too, precious girl. mine too.) - we start each day the same way...wrapped up in my bed just before she has to get dressed...it started out as five minutes, but has stretched to seven or eight some days...and no matter what i'm doing, or how big of a rush i'm in, i stop and just "be" with her for those few minutes. they may be all we really get that day, but they are ours.
i'm having a hard time with the fact that i can barely hold her anymore. of course she can sit on my lap, but to really pick her up and hold her it takes a lot of effort because she isn't all that much smaller than me these days. when she was younger she almost always would wrap herself around me while i was singing in church...laying her little head on my shoulder and wrapping her tiny arms around my neck. this past sunday we were in church and i had this absolute longing to do that again...and it made me a little sad. i've known for a long time that there would be a "last time"; that there would come a point in the not so distant future when i truly couldn't hold her anymore...and that simple fact alone causes me to ache somewhere deep inside.
there is something about having only one child. not that it was my intention to do so, but just the way it worked out. she has to be everything - the firstborn, the baby, even the often misunderstood middle child. she is the only one who knows our life, our stories, our traditions. she has no one to blame anything on (although she tries to blame the dog from time to time), nor no one to learn how to share or argue with. although we are blessed with many good friends who are often very much like family, our world is small in many ways. i try very hard to surround her with a variety of people who give her the things i can't, or help enhance the things i want her to learn. i'm well-aware that i'm only one person, that i alone can't do it all - as much as i want to most of the time. i hate asking for help. hate feeling like i can't do or be or give it all to her. but, in the end...when it's all said and done, and it's just us at the end of a long day sharing stories...or curled up with charlie on my bed before the day has a chance to get in the way...i get to love her. i. get. to. love. her.
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