My Daughter's Birthday Eve

Twenty years ago Naomi began her first day of kindergarten, but it's only Yesterday in my mind because I remember leaving her in the classroom, then almost running down the crowded hall, praying no one would stop me to chat. 

All I wanted was to escape to my car and cry.

But after the tears, I confess-- I smiled, drove home, read books and drank coffee and flittered the morning away.

Tomorrow is Naomi's birthday. Each of her birthdays find me pensive and pondering and this year I wonder how can I have a daughter who is 25 when most days I, myself, feel only 30?

Again I remember kindergarten on September days. Afternoons when Naomi came home from school, she'd play her cassette tapes, ones telling stories from books. One tape played over and over a mournful-sounding song: "Little house, little house--so much to remember. Little house, little house..." 

I stood in the kitchen one day and thought, "I will always remember this. That song, this opened window with warm pine scent wafting through the screen, Naomi-Afternoons when she was 5 years old. And standing here, I will always remember pausing here right now. Today."

And I have remembered, even though that was many years, many houses and 3,000 miles ago.

I wonder why each of Naomi's birthdays return me to right around that time? Perhaps because once she started school, I sensed she wasn't really mine to keep. Each day I had to let go of her, had to loan her to others, and well, the day would come when she would spend more time in others' homes than in ours--and I knew it.

And with that realization came something new. I slowed down more, because Naomi seemed to be growing faster and I felt Time, like sand, pouring from my fingers. I'd sit on the couch mending or writing while Naomi played on the carpet with her stuffed animals. I'd pause, look up, and memorize her just as she was. 

I'd tell myself, "Memorize her now, because someday she will be grown."

I'm glad I memorized my daughter at 5 and 8 and even 12. My heart holds pictures no one can ever take away from me. They're all still here as only a mother's heart can hold them.


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Happy birthday to my Little Girl All Grown Up.