Archive for September 5th, 2007

To Lucy, my baby big girl

In your mermaid nightgown, monster spray sprayed, bunnies on either side of you.   Your bag is packed for the first day of school tomorrow morning; a change of clothes in a shoebox and your moon and stars blanket.  You lay out the pink flower outfit to wear, telling me that you think the kids at school would like that one best, eyes shining with all of the possibilities that school holds for a bright, vivacious four year old.  My eyes shine too, with tears, and I hope you don’t notice as I lean over to give you a hug, kiss, love, squeeze and grrrrr, one for you, one for me, and one for the Baby Brother.  Tonight on the third kiss, I say the word against your tummy as you do against my cheek, your little joke for the past few weeks.  ‘Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedcats bite’ you say, not quite ready to stop joking long enough let yourself drift off.

Today was the last day of our old life together, you and me, and tomorrow the beginning of our new one.  You will go off to make friends and learn and have experiences without me.  I will stay home to prepare for a new baby and then to take care of the baby.  When we come together at the end of the day, it will be to share what we have done and learned.  Just as I have grown accustomed to every new milestone, so too will I learn to spend my days without your constant presence.  But for tonight I’m remembering that first time I held you in the hospital, hooked up to all sorts of cords and beepy things and just watched you sleep.  I was so afraid of breaking you then, afraid I had broken you already.  Tonight I want to cry but I can’t.  I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop and I don’t want anything to take away the stars in your eyes I see every time you talk about school.

Tomorrow we’ll pack your lunch–an apple, ciliegini, and pillow cereal just like you want.  You’ll get dressed in the outfit you picked out, and we’ll do your hair, and I’ll fuss at you to keep eating your breakfast or you’re going to be late.  And then I’ll send you off with your daddy because someone has to meet the furniture delivery and I can’t trust myself not to break down and cry.  I’ll be there to pick you up, though, and I guarantee that I’ll be happier to see you than anyone has ever been happy to see anyone before.

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