My deepest thank yous to everyone who wrote and to everyone who prayed. An entire day, meltdown free (our first in a month), spent with the 4 of us at the Cincinnati Zoo. It was peaceful and gentle, and truly, the easiest of days. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I often wonder what the girls will remember of their childhood. I probably write of it at least once per year. Their brains are making snapshots entirely separate from my own. As most Mommas do, I’m sure, I fear they’ll only remember the times I lost my temper. When my voice gets deep and gravely. When my face turns red. The many times we’ve had to discuss Sara’s challenges and being brave. But maybe time will be kind to me. Maybe they’ll remember the better times too.
~ Kelly & Sara can’t say “museum”. They call it “the mu-ZAY-um”, with an odd, Southern twang. Someday they’ll stop. They will say mu-zee-um, like all proper Hoosiers. I’m certain my heart will break. We spent Barbie’s last days with her at the Children’s Museum, right before the Exhibit closed. They watched me closely, and I managed not to cry. A big step up from the weeping I did a few years ago upon the discovery the Curious George Exhibit was gone. No judgements…it was a major blow.
~ Kelly stopped saying “day-sort” tonight. She called it dessert, clear as a bell. I asked her to repeat it over and over, to check that my old friend had left. And certain enough…her funny rolling of the tongue, making the r it’s own game in the word, was gone. Dessert. Just like that. As I carried Kelly to the car today after her little legs gave out, I asked her to stay 4. She said she’d be happy to, just as soon as I figured out how to stay 40. Touche Boo Boo Chicken. Touche.
~ Will they remember reading at night, with nothing lit but the little antique lamp between their beds? Me in the big red rocking chair with the pineapple carved arms, pulled in between their beds, always starting with, “And what were the characters up to when we left them?” Will they remember I cry on the last page of Kate DiCamillo books, barely able to choke out the last lines? Will Sara remember that she always says, “It’s OK Kelly. This must be the last page. Mommy is always sad to see a good story end.”
~ Will they remember the moment I was no longer their primary playmate? They replaced me with each other, and truly, it was a moment I did not mourn. It’s rare I don’t fight change, but sisters becoming best buds is the way it should be. I have only been a facilitator to their storyline this past year. I open the paint. I turn on the movie, but rarely do I ever stay. Rarely do they notice, as they start into their performance soon after I hit “play”. I’ve stepped away, telling them Mommies play games, but imaginary play is entirely up to them now. They almost crave a few moments of freedom from me, stretching their wings. Unless a bee comes along to interrupt their endless play, and then I’m their best friend again.
~ Will they remember treasure hunting with me at Antique Stores, imagining how they would use this or that, always looking for old toys? Will they remember their favorite errand running game called, “What would I get my daughter?” As we walk through grocery stores or fabric stores, or really, anywhere, they pretend they each have a daughter. Then they take turns squealing, “OH! I would get her that! And she needs this fabric to go with those buttons over there! Wait, THAT won’t be enough fabric! (Unless it’s Kelly, and then it’s called “favric”.) We’ll need more colors. Maybe I’ll make her a nightgown or a soft blankie! YES! You have the best ideas!” Are they secretly hoping I’m listening? Because seriously, 9 times out of 10, I’m probably buying stuff for them. I know bananas aren’t exciting girls, but they are for YOU. Before you I lived on Doritoes and Frosted Mini Wheats.
Dear Duck and Chick,
Someday I hope to hear all the funny stories you remember, because they will be different from my own. And in case forget, I wrote it all down for you here. So far, 2,889 stories, just in case. What can I say? Momma loves you. Oh, to heck with the sentimentality. With this many words, I’m sure you’ll remember the 100x per day I say, “Excuse me! I was TALKING!”
So much love, it raises my blood pressure daily,
Mommy
