Kurt gave me flowers, yesterday. There was one, lonely pink rose in the bundle of orange. I thought she was me.
*
We rode the carousel under the shadow of the cathedral, the one with all the animals. Scouty and I had spent the afternoon going over our choices. She wanted to ride the sea horse, she said. Or maybe the jack rabbit.
Going around, I was face to face with the giraffe. His plastic eye was almost human with flecks of brown and a cold, dilated pupil. "Look at their eyes," I said to Scouty, surveying the whirling parade of animals. All of them had beautiful, haunted eyes.
"Look at me go!" she called out in response.
*
There is a fountain near the library gilded with brass turtles, their shine covered over in matte turquoise. We stopped there just to put our feet in the water. "Don't get your clothes wet," I said to the girls and Kurt glanced up at me, something like defeat and happiness mingling on his face. They would be soaked almost before I could finish my warning.
Mothers have to say these things. Don't get wet. Don't mess up your dress. Don't pick up rocks from the parking lot. Don't fill your pockets with them. Don't kick the dirt on the field.
I only say them to give my girls the chance to feel free, for moment.
Scouty told me once that it feels kind of good to be bad. I agreed with her, but instead of saying so, I said, "Next time you need to listen to Daddy when she says not to run at the zoo."
I know that no one is listening, even as they hear me, and I love them. I don't listen, either.
-----------------------
I linked this post up with Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary's Just Write. Do you have a minute to do some free writing today? (You know you do.) Link up, too and find some great writers (and friends) in the process.
-
This is so fucking gorgeous and haunting, honey. This is exactly what it feels like watching them grow - where everything is beautiful, but also tinged with sadness. There's a strange loneliness to being a parent. This is perfect.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite part was when you looked at the giraffe, fascinated by the eyes, but Scouty was all "LOOK AT MEEEEE". The perfect contrast of kid and adult.
ReplyDeleteThe bit about what mothers have to say to their children really struck a chord with me. Just this morning, my 3-year-old son Nicholas picked up a stone. "Put it down," I said automatically. "Don't put that in your pocket."
ReplyDeleteAt the time I was irritated, and the subsequent battle, short as it was, left me feeling grumpy and sour. It just felt like the sort of thing a mother ought to say: "Don't pick up rocks." But he asked me, "Why?" and honestly, I didn't have a good answer. "Because I said so."
The idea that you say this sort of thing to allow them the freedom of choice, to choose to be "bad," to have some control, however small, was eye-opening. I'll be thinking about that for a while.
Christine, I mean, there was probably dirt on the rock, and bending down to pick it up was distracting, I'm sure... but I think the answer is that we say those things so that our kids can feel separate from us and a little rebellious, without having any to do any real misbehaving. They'll pick up rocks a million times, knowing that we said not to, and it will give them a chance to be themselves. I'm glad this made sense to you. <3
ReplyDelete