But something happened this summer. While she was swimming farther and farther away and I was standing, watching. Something happened when she was snuggled up next to me listening while I was reading.
Six years old. This feels like a tipping point. The changes time is bringing aren’t so much making it easier for us to be together, easier for us to get through our day – our shared day – as they are giving her the chance to make each day, each experience more her own. And that is exciting. And it is humbling. It feels, now, like we are not only gaining with time, we are losing. Losing the need for constant attention, losing the need for help with little things. All those little things that connected us. That kept us close together, in our space and in our hearts.
Next summer, she won’t need me to read her The House at Pooh Corner, the funny book with all those Chapters. The book that launched her into hours of playtime, and inspired her to get lost in her imagination. Will she want me to read to her? Will she ask me to, if she does? Will she invite me into her imagination? Will she allow herself to spend enough time there?
In our rush to achieve, in our desire to look ahead to the next milestones, the easier day that’s around the corner, are we forgetting the joy of the journey? Are we hurrying to a time when we remember the past fondly, forgetting that so much of that past was spent looking to the future?
I want to remember these moments, the summer of independence that we shared. The start of a school year that I know is pulling her away from me and towards herself and all that knowledge and friendship and imagination will help her to uncover about the world.
I want to be present, to be present for what is, right now, for her and for me and for us. And as we look ahead and dream together, and look back and remember, I want to find - and to honor - what connects us. Maybe that connection is need. The need to love and be loved, the need to find and share joy, the need to embrace the life and the time we have been given. And to celebrate it, together.
- Elizabeth Eames, September 2016