I want to remember the way they throw themselves into me…recklessly and completely trusting. They stick there like velcro – when they need love, when their feelings need mending, when they are overjoyed at their accomplishments. The way they sink into my arms like they are handing it all over to me. The weight of their heads on my chest…the way they cuddle into my being.
I want to remember the way my time is valued. My presence isn’t wanted, it is needed. At the end of each week, I don’t collect a paycheck for my time investment. I collect moments. I feed on their accomplishments – each thing I’ve taught them to do. Being with them is the busiest I’ve ever been in my life. I have a full, content heart.
I want to remember the magnitude of anticipation. The way their eyes shine, and hands draw up to their mouths. The excitement is overwhelmingly contagious.
I want to remember these moments while magic is real. Santa and the tooth fairy exist. Fairies live in the backyard. Everyone is a princess when they put on the dress. Super heroes come to life when Daddy flies them around in his arms. Kisses mend every boo-boo.
I want to remember their love for each other. The way that the youngest belly laughs only for her Sister. The way they communicate in their own language. The way the oldest can’t stand to be awake 5 minutes without her baby Sister.
I want to remember this time when the only wrong I do is taking something away, or sending someone to time-out.
I want to remember this time before the world leaves it’s scars on their innocent hearts. The time before best friends are left behind. Before the boys promise them the world and then leave them standing in the rain. Before backstabbing and ridicule. Before the magazines, television shows, and celebrities leave them feeling less than worthy.
I want to remember all of the scary, frustrating, draining, exhausting moments. The ones that when they are over you just want to hold them – to apologize, to savor, to appreciate, to be grateful. The way that I had to grab moments for myself whenever I could – and almost never got to go to the restroom alone. The moments when I wasn’t sure I had it in me – but we made it through.
I want to remember how I got to be there for all of their “firsts”. I got to write the beginning chapters in two little girls’ lives. I want to remember how incredibly lucky I was – and how grateful I am that I was able to give them this loving foundation to start their lives.
I want to remember when my hopes for my girls was that they would grow up to find contentment in the simple things. That their passports would be full, even if their wallets weren’t. That they would find love and let it take them on a journey. That they would be strong in body, but more importantly, in mind. That they would stand behind and never cower from their opinions, their beliefs, the very fibers that make them who they are. That they would surround themselves with people who lift them up. That they know that no matter who turns their back on them, I will walk beside them down their paths. Always.