This piece was created back in September:
No more arguing for
me. Not tonight. My body is exhausted but my mind won't
rest.
Today was a day of
work, and because I get to decide where to recruit new business from, I chose
Bloomington. If I'm gonna be far from home to go get Becca, why not work
there that day? Amazingly, my training manager not only agreed, he agreed
to drive AND bring Becca back with us to Morris at day's end... this Friday and
next. This new job is a huge challenge, but I am shadowing a truly decent
human being. Props to the guy for that.
Then we ate dinner,
and Becca opened some late birthday presents, and the magic of Roo began.
I posted pictures to Facebook, don't worry. I refer to the moments when
the world's ickyness faded and I got caught up in being a mom... but then it
got serious again.
Tonight, Becca asked
about Finn. A character on a show she watches, the actor who played him
died, and the episode dealing with losing him is this coming week. I told
her he wasn't coming back. I told her he was watching over his fans and
friends and cast-mates now. I told her we still have his music (I made
her a CD of just the songs he sings in the show).
Then she asks for a
different CD to fall asleep to than the Irish piano music she's had in the CD
player for a while. I pick one that she's had since birth, a recording of
instrumental versions of hymns that are played slowly so as to be
lullabies. That done, we read a new book about a girl who wants to be a
ballerina and I tell her that when I was in first grade I took ballet. I
described the class, the ballet slippers and tap shoes I had, and the royal
blue leotard I wore which matched the other little girls in the class.
"Why did you
stop?" And then it hits me that I'm upset as to the reason I'm about
to tell her, but I tell her anyway, because it's the truth. Because the
recitals were the same time every year, and they coincided with Annual
Conference (for those who don't know, it's a work related thing for my dad
which took the whole family away from their normal activities for a week each
June). Basically, I would never get to dance on stage, no matter how good
I got or how much I practiced. I love the experiences I've had at
Conference, but...
"That's sad that
you never got to be on stage." Yes, Becca, it is. But the
dance is still in me. I am more graceful, I stand straighter, and now I
allow my faith to flow through dance occasionally. It hurts a little that
I never got to put on that light purple tutu with the little yellow and pink
fluffy hair-thingy and dance in the forest with Hansel and Gretel... God, I
haven't thought about Miss Jennings and her dance school for YEARS. But I
remember the day I found out I wouldn't get to join them. Things like
that stick.
I turn out the lights and
turn on the CD and begin singing the words to the first quiet lullaby which
happens to be Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. She is quiet and I hope
she's falling asleep. I turn to leave and turn back just to watch her
silhouette in the darkness, because I can. Peace. Silence except
for the music as I sing. Then:
"Mama? Is
Finn giving you the words?"
Yes, baby girl.
Tonight, I think he is. Sleep well, precious child. May I never
keep you from your dreams because of my job. Tomorrow, no matter how
tired I am, we will dance. I will teach you how. Because I still
remember.
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