I looked at Lucy last night and I was startled to see a little girl morphing into a big girl. She looked a little more grown and her movements were done with more grown-up precision. It was like I was seeing someone new but all together familiar. Recognizing a more mature Lucy is surprisingly similar to what I see in the mirror these days. I'm noticing a new, not necessarily improved, older version of myself. No matter how many times I splash water on my face or rub my eyes that woman with the crows' feet stares back at me with a puzzled expression.
A couple of days ago,Lucy was cutting some string to make her new stuffed animal into a puppet. I watched her lay the string out, measure it and cut. She looked so intent, peaceful and knowing. Her face has begun to slim up slightly. Her familiar round face is shedding the baby fat. Her sweet freckles around her nose are fading and her hair is getting longer and darker. This transition has been happening at such a glacial pace that when her look took on a new hue it seemed instantaneous and startling. It was like that with me in the mirror - every day for 20-something years, the same person peered back at me and then one day, without warning, she was replaced by an older woman. I was expecting her but not so soon.
Lucy came home this evening to pack an overnight bag. Her friend, Sela, two doors down, asked her to spend the night. She took her favorite penquin pajamas, her blankie, and her new stuffed duck named Squirt. I tried to give her a big hug and say good night but I barely nuzzled her shoulder before she was skipping down the hall. I managed a quick one lip brush to her forehead before she slipped off into the dusky evening.
I couldn't help but stare at her as she made her way down the street. I kept thinking that she's mine, my baby, my first born. It's surreal to see her become so grown and independent but yet, so expected and normal. She has always been an old soul, wise beyond her years. Jessie, our babysitter, always said, "She's been here before."
In the doorway, I wondered if I was doing all I should be doing for her. I felt a slight tinge of melancholy watching her walk away so happy.
2 comments:
This post warms my heart Lisa Lisa. Lucy is such a sweet dear child. You are doing a fantastic job with her. Keep up the good work. As M'Lyn says in the movie Steel Magnolias, "Life Goes On, Life Goes On". I like what Jesse had to say too...very interesting..I wonder who else has roamed these parts before....Thoughts to ponder....
Great post. I feel your pain! As of now, my seven year old still loves big hugs and think I hung the moon but I know those days are numbered.
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