A Normal Day
“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”
― Mary Jean Irion
More than anything, you want to be an aerialist. You ask me constantly to get you classes. I think, as a parent, I'm scared I'm missing a chance to give you the start to finding your special gift. This isn't like soccer or swimming or field hockey or girl scouts, where your interest waned. I see how much you need this, in almost everything you do and every way you move. I need to find you some classes. This year, I promise I'll find you your outlet.
Photo by Olivia Gatti
lately you have been spending more time in the bathroom. you go in to brush your teeth and i later come to check on you. there you are still gripping the toothbrush in your hand, the toothpaste still on it, and the water running. your eyes are fixed on the mirror in front of you. it is like you are in a trance. you say to me, “mama, i don’t feel the same anymore. mama, i don’t look the same anymore.” i reassure you that this is a normal part of growing up and the same thing happens to me. i tell you not to worry. i tell you that you will always be you and i will always be me. the days just add more layers to us. i get to know each of your layers. and with time you will know mine. i tell you not to worry. yet, i find myself questioning my own advice. i see you lost in your thoughts and i worry because i know that sometimes these layers hide us from those we love. now i tell myself not to worry. i will dig as deep as i have to. i will always find you.
Photo by Heather Robinson Photography