Saturday, February 9, 2008
Our Little Girl
So it goes. They really do grow up. Sometimes, when she is sleeping or sick, I can still see the 2 year old, or the happy 6 year old dressing up for "our" wedding. She is a beautiful girl. This odd feeling of pride and hurt, happy and sad, started with the mail. She received her invitation to "Scholars Day" at the University that accepted her. This basically means that she qualifies for a scholarship (phew) and only has to go and be interviewed and attend events to determine the level of scholarship award. She is growing up...or grown already. The rest of the afternoon was spent getting ready for Snowcoming. I did her hair and makeup and her bestfriend's hair and makeup. All the while remembering them in their jumpers as grade schoolers. Oh tears go away. I remember thinking forward to them as high school seniors and thinking we had all this "time". But we didn't. Not really. She went off to get dressed. I helped pick the dress. The hat and boa were her idea... a different drummer for sure, for her. And I remembered last year's and the years before's dances. And how Leonard would look at his/our little girl- a mixture of pride, and fear, and disbelief. It was with a twinge that I realized, again, that this would be just us. No dad to worry and fret. And I swallowed as hard as I could so I wouldn't ruin their excitement or tinge her happiness with worries about my loneliness. And her friend, that handsome young guy above, came to pick her up. He has known them both from jumper days. And sometimes he reminds me of Leonard. Not in looks, but in chivalry. There are still boys out there who know this. And I thank their mamas. Off they went. And I closed the curtain in my mind over all of the scary things I think and worry about when my children are not by my side.
James and I went out to dinner with Poppy (my dad). To the Old Country Buffet, which doesn't hurt because it is a place my husband hated. I think I am repeating that from an older post. It was crazy busy. We were seated across from a group of girls that could not have been more than 14. I have never heard the f word said (no screamed) more in a 10 minute period than I have tonight. And I am not usually offended, that much, by its use. They went on and on. Yelling into cellphones and generally being more disruptive than one could even imagine. Finally, the manager came over and hushed them. Amazingly, they hushed and finished their dinner quite calmly.
James now sleeps, and I await Nik. I am lonely. A really huge lonely. An aching, "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make this not my life" kind of lonely. I think of the plans we were looking forward to. Of buying houses while I type up the reports that outline the dreams of other couples. Their houses. Their dreams. My loss.