Sometimes through my lens I catch something beautiful.
A look. A smile. A relationship.
She's growing up. It doesn't scare me. I'm excited for her.
But I'm sad. Because what if one day she doesn't fall into step beside him...what if she thinks his wisdom is outdated and runs instead to the arms of another boy?
What if she doesn't go on for a year and five minutes about what happened at school that day or she forgets to give us every. single. detail. and then tell us again an hour later?
When the day comes that she no longer tells us everything, where will I be sitting? What will I be doing? How will I let her go?
The other day I looked at her and thought, "Wow, she's tall..." and in a split second I was holding her again for the first time, trying to figure out how to be a mom, certain I was going to fail. Sure I didn't have what it takes.
Recounting all my faults and all the ways I'm not good enough. All the ways I'm not like my own mom...who is brilliant at this job...
And now she's a decade old and I'm a decade older and she still talks to me and she still worships him...
What happens the day that she doesn't?
What will I say to her then? What would you say to me then?
I'm not ready.