She disappeared into the bathroom, and made like Clark Kent. She went into the bathroom a school girl and emerged a sophisticate. I was momentarily shocked at the vision standing before me ... her tousled hair, five foot ten lanky frame - wearing an above-the-knee strapless black satin dress with an ivory sash. My eyes lowered to her shoes ... her 4 inch peeptoe heels. I couldn't hide my
I sat there in stunned silence to figure out just what my problem was ...
She isn't my little cherub faced, tom boy Kidlet any more. She is a young woman - and the shoes proved it to me. I've been in a bit of a state of denial lately ... and I only know this because of the sporadic reveals -- you know -- those momentary glimpses of perspective or objectivity that provide clarity. It's cliche to say, but it seems that Kidlet morphed into a young woman overnight.
I rummaged through my hope chest and found them -- her size 2 pink and purple canvas high top sneakers. When I hold them in my hands it triggers a memory reel of Kidlet, cap turned backwards, running like the wind - usually away from me! Was it so long ago? It is time to let go and let be.
I'm happy to report that I pulled it together, packed my pride, gathered up my humility and made peace with Kidlet. I apologised. I told her how beautiful she looked in her outfit and that I regretted more than I can say taking the wind from her sails and hurting her feelings. I tried to explain that I sometimes forget that she is no longer a little girl ... but rather a young woman, about to turn eighteen - in grown up shoes. I need gentle reminding.
The high tops are stashed back in their special place along with the childhood version of Kidlet. I am reminded that as a parent, there is still so much to learn. And I am trying to learn from my missteps ... and to put myself in her shoes ... but I think I would topple over.
I love you Kidlet. Rock them shoes!