Walking AwayMay 6, 2010 at 3:57 pm | Posted in Lollipop | 22 Comments
Tags: Children, Growing Up, Life, Motherhood, Parenting, Personal, Relationships
I made it to Lollipop’s school breakfast this morning.
She chose her Tinkerbell dress and magenta Mary Janes with polka-dot socks. She brushed her teeth with extra toothpaste and didn’t protest when I ran the comb through her morning tangles. She decided to bring her stuffed cat Pickles with us.
When we arrived, Lollipop and I played outside for a few minutes. She presented me with a white felt bag stamped with her bright blue footprint. We shared a blueberry tea cake.
She hugged me and then raced for the swings where her friend waited, a tulle-loving kindred spirit dressed in a sparkling blue tutu. I meandered over and kissed the top of her head. I said goodbye, have a good day, I love you.
She didn’t hear. Too many adventures to dream up.
As I walked back to the car, I ran my fingers over the soft white felt of the bag she had made. I traced the puffy outline of her blue footprint. It seemed so big.
I thought of all the steps she has already taken. She’s no longer my baby, no longer a toddler. She’s a little girl. She’s a big sister. She’s her own person, with preferences and opinions and emotions all her own.
I thought of all the steps she will take. She will lose teeth, lose heart. She will win races, win respect. She will break bones, break barriers.
She will need me less and less. I will worry more and more. I will cheer for her. I will tell her I love her again and again, even when she can’t hear me over the thrilling roar of her next adventure.
And I will watch from the background with pride, and just a few tears, as she makes her mark on this world. One footprint at a time.