This morning was a perfect morning: I woke up to the sound of your voice - yours and Daddy’s outside on the deck playing Memory. Or playing at memory, I should say. You are still too young to fully grasp the concept, although you love to gather fistfuls of matching cards: one bear; followed by ‘the other one bear;’ one prickly cactus followed by ‘another one prickly cactus…’
When Daddy asked who wanted to go down to the beach you said, “I do!” and when you overheard us talking of stopping for coffee on our way you promptly informed me that you simply couldn’t, no “not yet,” as though you’d made a fixed date with the ocean and simply hadn’t time for 'trifles.'
You passionately resisted changing out of your polka dot pajamas – you love them so – and cried when I put on your red-and-white-striped dress. You preferred the brown one instead, and looked so darling in it, with the white flower in your hair.
As we walked down the hill to Laneda Avenue we saw a man out for a stroll with his two dogs. “Look at that people, Mommy!” you said; and I told Daddy how much it amuses me to hear you use the plural term in place of the singular.
I followed you for miles, it seemed, as you wound through the glistening tide pools leading to the ocean. We stopped to watch a ladybug wriggle in the sand. We spoke with a little girl who was so enthralled with you she invited you to 'step inside' her sand castle. We found a great big stick which you couldn't carry - "It's too heavy, Mommy! You take it!" - and so I dragged it myself for a space.
You got not only your feet wet – but your pants, your dress – and you laughed, easily and without restraint, at nothing in particular and everything at once. Your joy is contagious. I love every moment that I spend with you and shudder, almost, to imagine there will ever come a time when you must grow up and go out into the world.
When that time comes, I hope you will leave our home with that same joy in your heart. And I hope, between now and then, to assist you in acquiring the qualities you will need to face your days with magnificent grace and faith. I hope to live in a way that inspires you to run with endurance the race set before you; and pray that the way you see me respond to the circumstances of my life grants you courage in future years; encouragement when you need it; and perhaps a little wisdom thrown in to boot.
I love you with all my heart, precious girl. “To the moon and back…”
With Love ineffable, in-ex-pressible,
Your Mother
2 comments:
I am in the back of a rock club in Little Rock, Ak and I am weeping. Fabulously fabulous,..the two fo you are.
Love t
p.s. and oh how I wish we were wriggling our toes into Manzanita Sand beside you all :).
thinking of Audrey growing older, thinking of myself growing older, both of us, just like everyone, with no real choice in the matter, i think Audrey may read this one day with nostalgia for something she can't quite remember save that you wrote it so beautifully, perhaps only serving to increase that longing for something lost, something i might call immediacy--a thing the age of reflection resists enjoying, but reflection may too, in its better moments, also call beautiful
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