An Open Letter to My Daughter

Dear Meggie,

Today, when you were waving at us across the concourse at your college graduation, I was reminded of the day you were born. Blonde ringlets covered with my warm blood. Your tiny hands balled into fists as you wailed during your first breaths. You were so angry to be removed from the warm nest you’d been residing in for almost 10 months. They placed you on my swollen belly. I counted 10 fingers; 10 toes. Your blue eyes focused on me and I knew right then, the true meaning of unconditional love. I remember during labor, asking your father if he was proud of me. He said, “more than I have ever been in my life.”

After the doctors assessed your health, Daddy pulled you into his arms. I’ve never seen him so happy. He placed a bottle of glucose water to your lips. You pulled at the nipple and ate ravenously. That wasn’t the only day he fed you. Your father was a fantastic baby dad. Hell, he was and continues to be a great father.

When you were a few months old, I’d watch you sleep. Your eyelids were almost translucent, a blue vein displayed prominently across your nose. I’d see the blood course through it, while your lids fluttered during REM sleep. That perfect, tiny mouth of yours would instinctively move in a sucking motion. Sometimes you’d smile or make incoherent sounds. I was mesmerized by those little movements. Your cooing would create this stirring within my body. This primitive need to nurture and protect you, from everything that this big, bad world was going to dish out at you.

Years later when you were a teenager, I’d wander through the horribly litter strewn mess you called a bedroom just to catch a glimpse of you sleeping. The face was that of a young woman, but altogether childlike in slumber. Your eyelids, no longer translucent would still flutter during REM sleep, but there was no more of the prominent vein visible across your nose. Gone were the lips of a baby. They had been replaced with the full and ripe lips of a teenager that had a few years prior tasted her first kiss. No, you didn’t sleep the same as when you were a baby, but I was still mesmerized. Why is it we can watch our sleeping children at any age and still envision them as infants?

Your freshman year of high school was one of transition. I knew you didn’t need me that much anymore. It took awhile for me to realize you had a good head on your shoulders. I watched you interact with boys. Oh, how they adored you. The boy that I saw you with at that time was the handsome Merrill. I caught you sitting on his lap in the choir room. You jumped up, afraid that I would be upset about it. You had little to fear though, I was excited at the prospect of a boy as cute as him liking you. I was a little worried that he was a senior.

There would be many more boys that you liked. Many that would like you. I recall being jealous of your beauty and the ease with which boys gravitated to you. Like bees to honey. Or moths to an open flame. How could someone that looked just like me be so good with boys, when I struggled so? I grappled with that question for a long time. In your senior year, at Matthew’s graduation party you said, “Mom, you have to let go. This is my time now.” You were right, my time had passed. Whatever happened in my teenage years were long gone, and it was time for me to stop dwelling on them.

 So today, as I watched my baby, now 24 years old graduate from college, I realized you still wail, but in a classically trained voice. And in different languages. You still throw those balled fists in the air, but with purpose. With drive. You want to be a choir teacher and change the world one student at a time. All I ask is that you don’t become complacent or jaded. Stay the course, and live to your highest potential. Continue to breathe life into your surroundings. Never stop growing or changing.

I’m so very proud of you my daughter. You are my example of unconditional love. My Meggie, Megabucks, and Diva. You’re my everything.

Go ahead Girl, let that little light of yours shine.

Love,

Your Momma

 

**The quote at the beginning of the video was one that we had posted in our Tecumseh home for many years. Meggie and Adam knew they were brilliant, but they were to be humble in their pursuits.**

Advertisements

A Hastening Heart Finds Peace in Dew

Thank you Help Me Rhonda for the photo 

The sun emerges from behind the trees at the beginning of her morning run. She always runs in Central Park. Headphones are blaring a little Foo Fighters to get her heart going and to help her keep pace. It’s a warm morning and a little too humid for Spring. She’s clad in a tank shirt, running shorts, and bright purple running shoes. She loves purple, it’s one of her favorites. Running is too. It keeps her lithe, lean, and healthy. Makes her smile at the thought of pushing her body to it’s limits. Makes her feel alive. Free.

As her feet keep pace with her breathing, she takes in the scenery. The scents and the sounds too. She loves running this route. Looking at the folks sitting on park benches. They’re feeding bread crumbs to the birds and the squirrels. She slides over to the far most side of the path so as not to disturb the animals and their feeding time. After she passes them she slide back to the middle of the path and picks up her running pace.

Her heart rate increases and so does her breathing. She loves this part of the run. She’s run two miles out of her normal three mile trek. With the increase in respiration she can smell the freshly blooming flowers on the path. She loves this time of the year. She knows the lilacs will be in bloom soon. She thinks, what is better than the aroma of those purple beauties? She sees new leaves on all of the trees. Everything is so green. Even she feels young and new today.

Then she sees it. It stops her dead in her tracks. Her heartbeat is heavy in her ears, her breathing still quick and her body does not want to rest yet. But she has to stop. For she sees in the path, a lone stalk of new wheat. It is green, glistening and bent over with the weight of morning dew. The sun hits it perfectly. She is mesmerized because it reminds her of home. Of Michigan and of younger days and running in wheat fields. It reminds her of her first kiss. Laying in the wheat field behind the farmhouse she lived in as a kid.

She walks up to it and then drops to her knees to take a closer look. She decides, what the hell and lays down next to it. Just like when she was a kid. From this angle she feels 15 again. She remembers kissing that boy in the wheat field. She smiles and looks at the stalk. She sees the sun shining through the dew. Reaches out and touches it lightly with one fingertip. She touches the dew drenched tip to her lips and remembers him.