Each morning you come downstairs, put on your coat and red rain boots (the only footwear you have worn for about a year), open the glass slider and walk outside. You take a walk around the yard- checking out what is different from the day before I suppose, or maybe you are just noticing things that you had not before.
You spend more than 30 minutes out there each morning. I stand at the door arms folded and ankles crossed, and lean against the door frame as I watch you. And listen.
I hear your voice, but cannot make out the words. I sense that they are intentional and meaningful and heartfelt. You crouch down and carefully touch a blade of grass or a stone and examine it.
So often I want to walk outside to join you, because it is so very special and inviting and intimate. I do not though, because I am your mother. I have learned that I have to respect who you are and allow you to be the person you are meant to be, and that person thrives in this time alone to figure things out and recharge.
This is hard for me.
I want to be with you all of the time. I want to “oooh and ahhhh” over your discoveries. Because that is what I think will help you grow. I have learned to override my own desires no matter how strong they are.
At least most of the time.
Sometimes though, I am so overcome with emotion and love for you that I have to bound out of the door, scoop you up and smother you in kisses and tell you how very much I love you.
Most of the time you allow it- as though somehow you can sense that this moment is necessary for your mom.
There are many moments throughout the day when you want this affection too. When you say “come here, mommy. Get down”. You put your still-so-tiny-little-arms around my neck and say “I love you, mommy” right into my ear. And my heart melts right out of my eyes. Every. Single. Time.
It is so exciting for me to discover what our relationship is. I think it is for you too. There are moments when your precious nose is just inches from mine, our eyes are locked and the exchange is more powerful and intimate and soul-filled than any I have felt before.
In those moments I see who you were, who you are, and who you might become. And it is the most beautiful and exciting vision to have.
You are a kind, compassionate and loving little girl, Sydney Grace. I am so excited about where we are and the years that are in front of us. Mostly though I am so very excited to watch you become who you are meant to be.
I love you, Sydney.
This morning was particularly cute; Sydney was (as she commonly is) in her pirate costume singing twinkle twinkly). I totally interrupted her by going outside (and then Owen followed), but I could not resist filming her!