A few weeks ago, my daughter and I took the long-awaited trip to New York City for her Sweet Sixteenth Birthday. We have been planning this for years and years and years. She even turned down a Christmas jaunt up to the big ol' apple with her dad one year because she wanted to wait until our trip!
My little girl. My little girl has grown into a young woman. The whole time, I was literally choking back tears. I just kept remembering the sweet little girl who was always smiling, always singing, always figuring things out - out loud. So smart. So beautiful. The way she would snuggle up to my neck and say she was just like "Simba" from her favorite movie, The Lion King. The way she would crawl into bed with me and snuggle up to my face. If I rolled over, she would methodically gather her blanket, her doll, and her "plug", climb over me, and position herself nose-to-nose with me again. I remember her wonderful smell - wanting to breathe her in completely. She was my little buddy. Her, and her 10 imaginary friends. Together, we did everything!
Yes, this past month, I have been mourning the loss of the child. While I am so amazed and proud and excited to see my Sweet Little Moey-Pamoey growing into a wonderful young woman, I am also mourning the little girl who once said, "You could NEVER embarrass ME, mom!" The little girl with whom I played American Girl, endlessly. The little girl who snuggled on the couch and watched Little Bear with me. I realized, that the little girl is gone.
I used to always kind of roll my eyes and smirk to myself every time one of my parents heard that song from Fiddler on the Roof:
Is this the little girl I carried?
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?
Swiftly flow the days
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers
Blossoming even as we gaze
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears
Why on earth must they continue to cry every time they hear this song, I would wonder. I wonder no more. I'm wiping the tears right now.
But, the new young woman in my life now is more than wonderful enough to make up for the loss of the child. She is brilliant...way smarter than her parents. And, godly. I receive text messages every day with a scripture verse from her. No, she's not perfect, ha! Who is? I know I certainly owe my mom an apology, or two, or four hundred, for the way I behaved at that age. But, she is still my Moey-Pamoey. And, I'm so proud of her. And, I'm looking forward to the fun to come.
Happy Birthday, Moey - er, Morgan. I love you!