Time And Tide

Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose. Lyndon B.Johnson

Sunday, May 09, 2004

It's Mother's Day, 7am and soon I will load a few boxes in the van and head to the house for another day of painting. I gave my mom and grandma their gifts earlier in the week because I didn't know if I would get to see them today. I mean, Ill see them, but only for a few minutes when Emily comes home from her weekend with Nany. Since we had just turned over a large portion of our life savings for the new house, I had no idea what I'd give my mom and grandma this year. We're pretty much broke. Buying gifts for people that have lived beyond fifty years is kind of tough anyway because they tend to already have the things they want and all the dust catchers they'll ever need. As luck would have it, Emily and Leirin spent an afternoon playing photographer one day last week and Em ily got several exceptionally good pictures of Leirin. A good picture of Leirin is a rare event. It's not that she isn't photogenic, oh no, she's beautiful and makes a lovely picture as long as she doesn't know she's making a picture. Let her know you're about to take one though, and she gives you scared eyes and a tight smile. She's camera shy.
For whatever reason she sat in front of the rose bush and posed for Emily last week and the results were amazing. (ignore the pictures at the bottom that won't show. My talents with pictures and websites is very limited and I can't adjust the size of our house pictures to get them to show up)

It took most of the day to do, but I figured out how to make the pictures black and white and splice them together on the page for an 8x10 for my mom and grandma (made one for myself too, of course). They loved them and could hardly believe that these pictures were of Leirin, perfectly posed, because we all know what her pictures usually turn out like. Near the bottom of the photograph, I had placed a transparent, color picture of Leirin and a horse that was taken a year or so ago. It has always been my favorite picture of her because it captures her essence, so my mom had seen that picture and recognized it. At one point though, she looked at the pictures above it of the little girl that has changed so much in the last year and said "Who is that little girl?" She looked a little bit embarrassed when she realized she hadn't recognized her, but then she stood for a few minutes just staring at the picture and said "You just don't always realize how much they've grown up, do you?" and then, "She's supposed to be a baby still."

I thought the same thing when I first saw them - her beautiful skin draped in the shadow of the rose, long hair brushing her lap as she sat cross legged on the ground...that's my baby. And look how she has grown.

After we closed on the house week the first thing I did was call my mom to let her know it was finally over. She was very happy, but it wasn't all because we had got the house that meant so much to me. What she said was, "I am so glad this is over for you now and you don't have to worry about it anymore." To her, it was all about me. She talked happily about plans and how the timing is perfect that the kids will move in just as summer break begins. I could hear the relief in her voice as she imagined them running until they got tired before they reached the end of the yard. Kids should have room to run. She was thrilled for us. No more loud parties from neighbors across the street to celebrate the end to finals, no more parking lots full of drunken students screaming at the top of their lungs to celebrate the end of finals, a win for the football team, Friday night, Saturday night, the 15th of the month...there is no end to the reasons for loud celebration in this town. It was all about how good it was going to be for us, but as we said goodbye I heard her voice crack and knew it was about her too. I'm still her baby and I won't be ten minutes away anymore. I'm only moving fifteen minutes away from where I live now but it's in the other direction away from my mom's and it makes me nearly half an hour from her. It will be long distance to call now.

When you're a mom the time passes so fast and though you live with the person your child is becoming every day, you mark every milestone and realize they are there... there is that place in your mind that holds the moment of their birth with such clarity, it seems like just yesterday. The feelings of that moment remain strong. If anything they intensify. No matter how much time passes or how many milestones we mark, a part of us remains in that moment. That's how our children remain our babies forever even though they may be twelve, or thirty-six, or fifty-eight years-old. Along with the joy of watching them grow comes the tug of sadness that separation brings.

I remember when my kids were new. I'd put their bassinet close beside the bed and though they were near enough that I could hear them breathe, I would reach out my arm and rest my hand on their belly while we slept. I felt like if anything were to happen, I would be close enough to know instantly, and I could do something. There was comfort in my feeling close enough to help.

I know just what my mom was feeling as she hung up the phone.

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