“I missed you mommy!” She clings to my legs as I come back from getting the mail.
“Please sit with me mommy!” She pleads sometimes with tears in her eyes, most often in the evening when she finds me in the kitchen or office.
“But please mommy!” She begs, desperation dripping down her face as the tears come. It is night and once again the only place she is not restless or stirring is in my bed.
I am her world. The only one that makes her feel loved, safe and secure.
I really AM her world.
Not that I didn’t expect to be. But she has always been very independent. Very laissez-faire about me being in the room. But as of late my easy going, care free daughter has become clingy, needy, and so very affectionate. And I savor those moments, as inconvenient as they can be. Breathing them in, knowing far too well that one day she will shun me for this or that as most teenage daughters do to their mothers at some point.
And I worry too. I worry that her irrational fear of me leaving the room or the house to get the mail is something buried deep inside her festering. One minute she is fine and the next she is a whirlwind panic of emotions.
It almost resembles those early teen years of puppy love hysteria. You remember the kind, when the object of your affection determined your mood and emotional stability with a fleeting glance. The heart pounding, gut wrenching feeling that your life is either over or you’re on top of the world with your rose colored glasses singing, “He loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
She loves me. Always asking, “Are you happy mommy?” She even mirrors my emotions with heart-felt tears the few times I was caught crying, unaware I had an audience. The strong willed defiance that I used to see has been replaced by a sweet girl who is so eager to please. So needing to make everyone in her world ok.
She loves with the purest of loves that is possible. Love at 3 is instinctual. It is not born of obligation or guilt. It is not jaded from baggage gathered through the years. It is not twisted. It has no strings. Love at 3 is selfless. innocent and pure.
I wish I could save that part of her that the world will destroy. But I know I can not. So for now I will let her crawl in my bed at night when she’s scared. I will rock her when she’s not feeling quite her self. Yes, I will even kiss her fingers and toes when she asks, as she does frequently.
And I will remember the tears that I cried while writing these things to help save that part of her in some small way. Even if it is only on paper.