I am the sum of all the best parts
of my mom.
I share her two-toned eyes and her thick hair.
She taught me poems
and kindness,
and she chose a good man to be my dad.
I am a reflection of her heart,
a collection of her dreams –
all the love and all the things she wants but never had.
She gave those things to me.
Watching your little girl play so carefree,
you think one day
I hope I can be
just like that.
But once upon a time you
were already a child too,
twirling and dancing under a twilight sky,
reaching for a mother’s steady hand
and knowing it would be there.
It hits you right where you stand:
Your time hasn’t gone.
It’s just moved on,
come full circle like the bright pink moon.
And like the moon,
it will turn again soon.
The well will never run dry
of daughters made mothers,
of mothers and daughters and the love they share,
heavy as a whole heart and light as air.
Here’s good:
There is something so surreal and so absolutely,
achingly,
magically,
transcendently beautiful
about watching my mama rock
her granddaughter – my daughter – to sleep.
My heart can barely hold it.
And I know:
It’s not the wars that will keep us safe,
that will keep us going.
It’s the women.
This avocado supermodel is one year old today.
I’ve been wrestling with what to say about that. A poem? An essay about motherhood and all the wonderful things about Lucy? A list of that enumerates and explains this experience so far?
Nothing feels quite right.
Probably because nothing quite captures how I feel.
I’ve never loved this big. I’ve never worked this hard. I’ve never felt this tired. I’ve never been this happy.
One year of absolute, complete and all-encompassing joy with my beautiful, strong, smart, spunky, funny, fearless girl.
One year with my Lucy.
I’ve often said that perfection doesn’t exist in this universe. As it turns out, I was wrong. Because this –
This is perfection.
I have a
little girl
to take care of.
Her world,
her future,
her life –
they start with me.
To teach her to be
kind
and
clever,
to show her
love –
how to and why –
and when it’s right to fight.
And to never deny
the darkness,
but always
always
always
help her shine her light.
Nothing else matters.
Everything matters.
Been a while, and I hope to get back to writing in the very near future, but for now, I hope you enjoy this sweet little success as much as I did:
Yep, that’s right. Sweet Lucy Blue-Eyes has started solid foods, and she loves everything so far. It’s a whole new adventure, y’all. And so far, it’s pretty fun.
Y’all, my heart is so happy.
My parents came to visit last week. Graham’s work has been insane, and some nights he’s been up until 3:00 a.m. or later. We were struggling. We were both tired, our house was a mess. The cat’s feeling neglected. I don’t even want to talk about laundry.
We needed help. And we got it, and more.
My family has always done music. I’ve posted about it a lot, and I’m just so elated that Lucy seems to love music, too. My dad brought out his mandolin, and she was just fascinated.
Absolutely entranced. And she wanted to try it for herself.
She cried when he put it away. She’s never done that before, with any toy. (We got it back out and gave it back to her, of course.)
These little moments, they just keep coming. Lucy is an easy baby, but life around her has been generally chaotic. These sweet new memories make all that chaos seem like nothing at all.
Milk drunk, y’all.
It’s a thing.
Here, there, and everywhere you are,
my hair –
in the shower drain and on the rocking chair,
fistfuls in my hands,
landing all around in tangles, clumps, and pairs.
You and me,
we were really something, weren’t we?
One day you’ll come back,
I know –
or, at least, I hope it’s so.
Until then,
my old familiar friend,
we’ll weather the (thinning) clouds together.
How’s this for some Monday cuteness:
It’s a blurry photo, I know, but too good a (new) memory to not share.
Our sweet Lucy Blue-Eyes made her big debut over the weekend, and we’re so excited to start getting her out and about to meet out friends and see our community. She had a good time, I think, and was very relaxed about the whole thing.
Mama, on the other hand, was an absolute mess. I know she can’t live in three rooms of our house her whole life, but going out where the people and the germs are makes me so nervous. I want her to know the world, but I also want to keep her safe from the bad things. This, I’m sure, is a parent’s ultimate dilemma.
At any rate, we went to one of our favorite places, and Lucy got to show off a shirt from one of my very best friends, and we had a chance to catch up with a few people, and Lucy took a big nap in the middle of all of it, and it was good. We’ll do it again, I’m sure.
For now, snuggles.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 