My daughters have been beading and sewing, their hands barely showing baby pudge around the knuckles. Or maybe it’s just that I will forever see finger pudge. Agile and determined, they string and thread, stitch and stack. Every little motion brings them closer to their goal. Slow, steady. It’s taking forever. And then it’s done. It hardly took any time at all!
Just like their own growth. Babies yawn minutes into hours. I daydream, stare at the grass leaning with the breeze, seeds about to leave pods. I wake up and they are kids galloping up hill, giggles and speed. It’s taking forever. It hardly took any time at all.
A few weeks back, we made necklaces. We visited the bead shop and they each chose sparkly glass hearts for their pendants. Pink for Ruby, turquoise for Margot. An entire day was spent stringing tiny effervescent beads against tiny opaque beads. We did real clasps and real string, sturdy ones that will endure rivers, swings and cartwheels.
When deciding on the length, Margot pointed to her breastbone and said here, over my heart. Ruby chose the same. Together, they decided that they’d wear them always and forever.
The next morning, sun cut sharp and hot across our living room. Margot sat curled into my body, her nose pressed into the hollow space between my clavicle bones, her fuzzy head under my chin. She held her turquoise heart between her thumb and forefinger and told me she had a dream about kindergarten the night before. About what? I asked. She shrugged.
I asked he what she imagined when she thought about kindergarten. Well, I have lots of new friends. And my teacher is like SO nice. I told her I’d miss her and that I was excited for her. She was squeezing the heart and bright with joy. I said that the blue heart is my heart resting against hers. And that if she ever felt sad or happy or afraid or proud or anything at all, she could touch that heart and know I was feeling those things right with her.
She looked up at me, into me.
Mom? I feel funny. When you said that it made me feel so happy but I also feel like I might cry. It’s weird. Can you say it again?
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I am back on mamalode today with an essay about kindergarten, growth, change and beginning. Click to read mama digs: begin.
