This has been my home screen for the last few months.
There you are, smiling back at me, in the glaring realty of all your soon to be twenty one years. I see you, grown and lovely, racing head on into all the future holds for you. I see those big eyes looking back at me too, when you were brand new, and I held you for the very first time – in awe of your beauty. I’m still in awe of that beauty.
I wonder how the time passed so quickly. I blinked and now somehow you’re turning twenty one. I wish I’d never blinked. I wish I’d never closed my eyes. I wish I’d held them open every single moment you were here. I wish I’d been more steady, more helpful, more aware of how quickly the time was passing.
Oh, I knew every moment I had with you was fleeing past me with the whirl of every merry go round ride, the twirl of every pirouette you turned, the spin of every tire as you sat behind the wheel and drove off into the future. I knew it. I even welcomed it. I celebrated every milestone with a pride that knows no words. I even ran headlong into the future with you, excited, eager, feeling each moment with all the thrill of the fastest roller coaster ride ever, somehow knowing it would all end too soon, yet never knowing how very fast it would arrive or how very far away that elusive future would take you.
I didn’t really know you’d turn twenty one, not really. I didn’t know it for real, deep in my heart. I had no concept of what it would feel like or how life would beckon you with a call so veracious that it would have the power to snatch you away from me – while I blinked. No, I thought I’d hold your little hand a little longer, enjoy that witty little mushroom thief with the big eyes and smile that spread across your face with a light that illuminated all the passion that is inside you – just a little longer.
I didn’t know how I would miss the sound of your footsteps, or how the grief of all the things I wish I’d done differently would grip me. I didn’t know I’d feel like every choice I made was now somehow the wrong one when in the moment, I know I wanted to make the very best choice for you that any mother could. I didn’t know I’d fail you in so many ways.
I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for everything I did wrong and for all the things I failed to do. I’m sorry I didn’t take more time for you and me. I’m sorry you had to grow up so fast. I’m sorry for how I faltered and lost my way and for how the weight of every one of my failures fell so heavily on your shoulders. I’m sorry I don’t get that second chance to go back and make it all okay.
I didn’t know I’d greet this new young woman with such a kaleidoscope of feelings. I didn’t know I’d be so incredibly proud of the person you’ve become. I didn’t know I’d grieve the little girl inside you, or see her shining still, even brighter than before, deep within you – running evermore into that elusive future I still can’t grasp. I didn’t know how the thought of you would bring tears of joy to my eyes, or that a single text from you could brighten my day far more than the most brilliant sun ever could.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know how I would love this new grown up you.
Happy Birthday, Victoria.
I love you,
Mom
