For My Maura

The platitudes are true. I can hardly figure it, that ten years ago tonight I was on the cusp of MOTHER-DOM. MOTHER-NESS? MOTHER-LOVING?? I laugh at what I thought I knew, and the ways she has challenged me and changed me.

She had a tough job, teaching me the ropes of this gig called mom. And she still takes it very very seriously. Teach me she has, with her earnest eyes and passioned ways. I learn something new every day.

What did I used to do before this lass and her brothers happened on this mortal coil? I truly can’t remember. And I don’t really want to. They more than make up for all the blockbuster movies and quiet Saturday mornings and romantic dinners I may have missed.

What a pleasure to see this butterfly unfold. Tough as nails, she is. Doesn’t cry for immunization shots or Pa’s death or Taco Tuesday. But give her someone breaking the rules, and she is a firebrand ablaze. My black and white girl, the one who knows which way to go, and wants all those around to follow her lead.

But I have learned to be stealthy and catch her in those quiet moments when she puts her cape of justice down and giggles herself to sleep. Last night I marveled at her whispering with her closest friends. It took my breath, this scene. A decade since my baby burrito was placed in my arms, and now to see her telling secrets in the dark……

I love how a moment can bring me to my knees. This week has been so tough. The back to school schtick is still not settled, the house is in a ridiculous uproar between renovate and done, and the community we live in is on edge with illness and suicide. The day after her birthday will be no easier, the anniversary of the day our country lost its innocence for good.

But my girl is turning ten on the tenth, and in a few short hours I will marvel at the gift I’ve cherished for ten whole years. This birthday is big: double digits AND her golden birthday. She claims she doesn’t want to get older, but only because the math is getting harder. I know she is ready for bigger plans and incredible dreams.

She is so hard to put into words, doesn’t unwrap herself efficiently and loudly like her brothers do. But on this swirling, almost-fall evening that is blowing the leaves and acorns, I know that she is my safety , my port, my teacher.

She is what I never could have imagined but what I now know I needed. She is my walking thanksgiving, and my heart cannot possibly hold this much.