Ten
Tue, Mar 19, 2013
New memories of my childhood flutter back as I watch our girls grow. They chase one another’s milestones like inch worms; just as one slows another launches forward. I remember what it felt like to stay home alone for the first time or when my parents finally let me hold a paint roller. Sometimes I’ll have phantom butterflies as I I witness them conquer their fear.
Mostly though, I find myself marveling at the magic that abounds in a house filled with daughters. Briar, in particular, pierces me with her emergence as a kid. The face that began my role as a mom is transforming, the eyes are still there, the sweet rosebud lips too, but the toddler years seem to have been a sweet chrysalis. She is coltish and bold, daring and hesitant. Reading Denise’s post last week felt like a peek, a chance to crib from the notes of someone just ahead of us on this journey. Now with Lindsey’s post, I am chastened, because it confirms so much of what I’ve imagined. It is beautiful, laced with a kind of sorrow without which it would somehow be less joyous.
I love how Lindsey writes; the way she thinks and frets echoes inside of me as if the emotions were my own. Please visit her post today, whether you have a daughter or a son, a child or an adult, I have no doubt that you will find beauty.
This post is another in the This is Childhood series. If you are just discovering this, here are the posts that have led us to ten.
Aidan Donnelley Rowley Age 1
Kristen Levithan Age 2
Nina Badzin Age 3
Galit Breen Age 4
Allison Slater Tate Age 5
Bethany Meyer Age 6
Tracy Morrison Age 7
Age 8 inspired by Briar
Denise Ullem Age 9
Lindsey Mead Age 10
Tags: This is Childhood
Thank you, thank you. I thought of you this weekend when I was criticized, yet again, for my writing being sad. And then I remembered Emily Rapp’s words, which I wrote about yesterday, about how rendering loss is a way of honoring life. I hope that’s true, since it’s all I know how to do. And I feel like you, almost more than anyone, really understands how I see the world. xox
We cannot apologize for how we write, which is a reflection of how we feel. Looking back on the posts I’ve written over these 8+ years of parenting, the posts that bring me the greatest joys are almost to a fault the ones that I wrote with tears soaking my face and keyboard. Love your writing and you.