Time with my daughter,
Lauren is precious. She will roll her 14 year old eyes when she reads this and
insist that I am being “weird”. I don’t care about the eye roll. It is
guaranteed to happen and I would worry if it did not.
This weekend, we are at
Trivia Weekend in Stevens Point-kind of a big deal if you are into that sort of
that thing and Lauren came along armed with her swimsuit for hot tub time,
several changes of outfits, her blanket, her IPAD, her homework and all of her
hair and makeup products.
Right before we were
supposed to hit the road, Lauren seemed to hear for the first time, that we
were staying in Stevens Point until Sunday. Clearly she wasn’t happy. She
claims to have not heard me state this fact earlier and I know that I have, but
choose not to argue about it. It is wise to pick my battles. I mentally note
that it would have been an even bigger bag of outfits had she known about the
extra day. I quietly listened to her sigh and grown about being away for so
long. Secretly, I was happy because that means that I have a whole weekend with
my daughter.
There are a lot of people
that come up to Joe and Lisa’s for trivia. I don’t know most of them, but I
know her. I know that she will sit next to me with her cute outfit on and her
perfectly brushed hair and smelling like a flower and she will be the one that
I enjoy the most. I watch her play with her IPAD. I watch her take pictures. I
watch her do homework and I am proud. She is sitting next to me and I can study
her-the way she holds her pencil, so different then the way that I hold my own.
I watch her take pride in writing her notes for her homework. I know that I was
the same. I know that I too loved the way, when I was doing homework, how the
pencil felt brushing across the fresh clean paper. I too loved how pretty the
words were on my paper with the special loops and circles and care that only a
14 year old can give to homework.
I watch Lauren carefully.
I know that I won’t get any of this time back. I want to wrap it all up in a
carefully wrapped gift and set it under a Christmas tree that I keep out all
year long and when I am feeling sad, or overwhelmed, I can open one of the
little packages up and know that it will bring me an immediate smile. She does
that, without knowing the power of her words, her smile, her giggle, her words
and all I know is that I want her to only be surrounded with people who will
protect and cherish all those things about her. I know this isn’t possible, but
as a mother, I can’t help but pray that this is truly what happens.
There are people that
fill this house this weekend that won’t know that she loves to dance and she is
fantastic at it. How one moves their body like that I will never understand and
it is effortless. These strangers (friends for the weekend) won’t know about
how she likes to write, that she likes to organize, that she loves to surround
herself with pretty things but still loves getting down right dirty. They won’t
know that she loves to take care of people, especially me. She gives from the
very depths of her heart, without being told to. She is love.
I know that she would
rather be with her friends. I know that she would rather not be driving two
hours to hang out with strangers, searching the internet for random stuff that
matters to know one but everyone playing trivia this weekend. I am so happy that
she is here. She is loved.
