I am cleaning out the sink after dishes, and I turn to Michael.
“We need to take pictures of her tomorrow morning. It’s the last day she’ll look like a little girl.”
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“It’s true,” I say. “I’m just being real. Her mouth will look completely different tomorrow. And she’ll have those braces on until she’s 14.”
And I think I see the signs of tears rising in his eyes, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but it is true, and we are watching these days rush right past like a cartoon flurry of daily calendar pages.
“We’ll be sure to take lots of pictures in the morning,” he says.
I walk up the stairs, and Sici smiles big when I open the door — her sisters sleeping in their bunks, her own lamp’s light shining across the pages of a new library book.
I get right up close to her face, and her eyebrows rise in response to mine. “I’m studying every curve because you’ll look different tomorrow,” I say.
I am remembering this girl who mourned the loss of her first tooth and second because the change in her mouth and the letting go hurt more than the pulling of roots.
She’s looking at me now with the quizzical look she seems to reserve for me these days, laced with love and amused tolerance.
I turn her face sideways to remember just what her beautiful profile looks like tonight, and I pray that no amount of metal changes the mouth flashing freedom on the dance floor, spunk on the basketball court, knowing from behind the pages of a book.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, smiling. “I wanted to read you this part a little ways back.”
And she reads me the line she’d marked with her finger, the one that made her laugh — its humor wry and sharp, just like hers — and I think she saved it for me, knowing I’d be coming in again.
We laugh at the line and then she lets me take an extra long time to run my palm across her cheeks, her chin, gently pulling her long hair toward me with both hands.
Holding on and letting go, over and over again.
Linking this morning with Imperfect Prose at Emily Wierenga’s.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
“Holding on and letting go, over and over again.”
Loved this line!
:)
Oh Ash! I can’t stop crying! I hate the growing and changing. All the last moments in life with our kids are so painful to me too. But some how on the other side of them we see the good. Looking forward to seeing Sicily with her new mouth.
She is so adorable — really. I know the growing and changing is so hard, and as you say, somehow on the other side is the good. This is faith, I think. Embracing what is right now and believing in the good yet to come. Bless you as you mother your precious boys, Jen. I love you.
Makes me cry! Time is passing too quickly!
I know, Julia. :( And only noticing long enough to give thanks for these moments seems to slow time at all.
Dear Ashley
Oh, my heart is so sad for you. I embraced Simon, my oldest son of 23, today and I realized that he is a man now; not my baby of yesterday anymore. I get lost in his arms now and not vice versa as I was used to all these years. I know that feeling you experienced with Sici. NOT NICE!
Much love, dear friend
Mia
Really sweet post. :)
Ashley, just the fact that you know in your heart and mind that you need to enjoy/remember/grasp each moment is the real answer to making tomorrow’s changes “ok”. Think how your mama must glow inside as she watches her once-11-year-old be such an amazing adult/parent/wife/friend/writer….
Martha, you are so dear. Thank you for your encouragement. I appreciate you.
Elizabeth, thank you. It was so good to meet you in person this last weekend. Look forward to our next meet up.
beautiful. and so true. i’m excited for Sici and a little nervous (since braces can cause some pain). you are so sweet, my friend.
She felt some pretty major pain at first, but she’s doing great now (well, except those awful mouth sores that crop up). Such a trooper she is.
Oh, Ashley…this makes me sob & feel so much. What a beautiful picture…the two of you together, giggling, looking closely – sharing the ordinary/extraordinary – such precious, precious moments.
In 2 days, I too will have an eleven-year-old – big sighs…
Your words wake me up in the most beautiful way.
I love you so.
Sweet Tiggie, Brought back memories of the changes in you and your sisters lives. There is a certain melancholy in the realization that life grows, and it serves as a reminder that we also change and face new realities and an acceptance of those. Childhood for your darling girls has been a tremendous blessing and full of joyous memories thanks to the unconditional love and support that you two, beautiful parents, have given to them. They are truly blessed by your teaching them on how to be the best person they can be. Sicily’s finger dress is darling and so dear. A beautiful face will have a smile to accompany the beautiful and sensitive daughter she is. So while we may feel moments of sadness and the loss of a time in our children’s lives the future brings even more delights! I love you very much, PaPa (Give our love and congratulations to the singular Sicily!)
My own dearest girl – the heart inside me is still is bursting and spilling itself over and over again inside my rib walls! What extraordinary beauty your heart-eyes see ! Ashley, such beauty I just shake my head and cry. and cry. I think it should be the dream, the prayer, of every parent on earth to see, apprehend, contemplate treasure hold these myriad moments of change. these moments of our children’s “becoming”. a moment that is held like you beheld and held this one, THIS is the exquisite epitome of what it is to be Alive. I’m touched beyond words. I love you so. And I do so love that beautiful girl of yours (and ours) ! mama
Can’t wait to see her smile with those braces on! She’s so beautiful inside and out. Loved this bit of writing – so true. This time is almost as fleeting and precious as when they were infants. It all happens so fast – in the blink of an eye!
You know I’m not a mama, Ash, but this touches me deeply, too. Because you have the kind of “heart-eyes” (I stole that from your mama) that I would hope to have as a mama. You treasure up moments, trace them with the palms of your hands, nice and slow, to photograph them in your memory as life and loved ones continue to change all around. There is so much emotion wrapped up in this piece – sadness, tenderness, enjoyment, adoration, anticipation, acceptance. Simply beautiful.
lovely and wise to capture each moment. And to shed some tears at each passing. But part of the letting go to grow up is to get to witness the beautiful people they become. I am so thrilled to be the mom of a 22 year old and a 25 year old who are living out their calling. One isn’t better than the other, but both are beautiful experiences in parenting.
I’m aching a bit and smiling at the thought of that sweet girl of yours. Love the way you choose to SEE even if time moves so fast it seems to blur. And her reading you a favorite line? Priceless. The little stuff is really the large gift of motherhood, isn’t it?
“quizzical look…laced with love, amused with tolerance”. Yep. I know that one. Beautiful, beautiful post.
Cheers,
Leah
This brought tears to my eyes Ashley thinking about how quickly your sweet Sici is growing up, but really how each of our kids are! I love how you remind your readers to treasure these little/BIG moments in the live of these blessings God has given us!
well, this just made me bawl. it reminded me so much of my husband and i and the conversations we have about our boys. beautiful, ashley. just beautiful. i love how you treasure your children.
It was not only a wonderful experience reading “on braces eve”, but also everyone’s comments. So very touching and helpful in adjusting my mind frame back into mindfulness, my word for the year :-) Thank you and have a lovely holy week Ashley. xo