Every Bride Needs Something Blue

Tales Of An Educated Debutante

on life, loss and the joy that rules the day.


 
 
 
 
 




 
The future is far away and scary, but today is lovely.

Adrian H. Wood, PhD


My Daughter

My Daughter

Friday, November 18, 2016 Adrian Wood Comments (1)

My daughter falls between three brothers and she is quite resolute. She is efficient and pro-active, a smaller and sweeter version of myself, her gap toothed smile stares back at me in my old school pictures. She longs for my time and so often, I tell her that I am unavailable before 6:30am, but not today.
I had stayed up too late last night (10:30) and so, I groggily made my way downstairs to make a cup of Folger's and slowly wake up in the thirty minutes of quiet darkness that I claim on school days. Nope. Not today. Not on this cold and still dark Friday morning of November.
There she stood, a messy haired sprite, dressed in a pink t-shirt and some nautical looking pants, summery. I couldn't tell her to go put on real pants as I knew there were none in her bottom drawer. No, it was still filled with shorts as I had yet to unpack the winter clothes and the few things she did have for the past week's recent cold mornings, were still in the dryer from last evening.
What a mother can learn in thirty minutes.
We put a bandaid on her mosquito bite or maybe a mean spider bite that she thinks happened in her bed last night or on the playground. I made coffee for me and hot cocoa for her, which the idea of my so readily agreeing to this splurge before breakfast, brought a screech of giddiness. I heard about the boy in her class who was suspended for a week and listened to some of his really bad words, like fart. I signed her folder and reading log after being asked only one time and carefully examined each mimeographed sheet that she unearthed proudly from her backpack.
I briefly tried to escape in the bathroom, my failsafe refuge, but no luck. I sat and she talked and I put her flower girl bracelet on and of course, did it wrong. When I asked for privacy, she turned her back to me and carried on with her signature breathless chatter. I responded appropriately. No, we wouldn't be able to go to New York, but we could do McDonalds. I agreed to painting her toes tonight, even though I don't own any polish. Yes, I told her, we could sleep in my bed since daddy and the big boys would be away. I smiled to myself thinking of the tiny girl who grows arms and legs like a writhing orangutan and prefers to ask questions rather than count sheep.
This seven year old daughter of mine is quite fetching and to be moved by her very presence is a gift that I have missed too often, but not today. Some day the quiet mornings will come in a forever set of waves and I will drink hot coffee and I will miss her and the little body that once clambered for my lap. I will close my eyes in those years to come and awake thinking of the girl for whom I chose to abandon my dreams of quiet for the love that I hoped would reach far beyond those simple mornings.

Comments
Anonymous commented on 18-Nov-2016 08:10 PM
You need more hours in the day

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