So I've spent less time with my grls in the past week and a half than ever before in their lives and I realized that I have to get used to this... because they won't always be two and a half, because they're growing up before my very eyes, because they have friends and family above and beyond the sheltered care I've given them on this first leg of their journey in the world.
It's an interesting melange of ecstatic joy at my own slowly rediscovered freedom, painful lonliness at losing little bits of myself selflessly gifted to these gorgeous creatures I call my daughters, realizing at the same time that they are not mine, or anyone else's for that matter. They belong to themselves and I can never change that, only grow and guide and change alongside them.
Almost gone are those days I've grown so accustomed to, lounging around most of the week at the farmhouse pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist. What comes next? Little roving packs of young children, activities with friends, maybe school, daycare, whole weeks with grandpa and grandma and not me. I imagine the next several rungs of the ladder all the way up to begging for the car keys, worrying about sex and whether it can ever be 'safe', sneaking out at night, college, careers, lovers of their own, families, grandkids, legacies, all those brthdays tumbled into one another. What would it be like, having the same birthday as your closest friend and sister year after long or short year?
Breakfast beckons. I shove this tangle of emotions back down inside before it bubbles over completely, that metaphorical bucket of crabs we always kick around like old stories or rusty cans...
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