I yelled more than I care to admit, and she gave me more nasty looks than usual.
It’s rainy. It’s dreary. And I didn’t get the nap I wanted needed.
We argued.
She texted to tell me she was sorry. And I texted back to tell her I was too.
And then I caught a glimpse of her, and for a few seconds it felt like time had stopped.
I stared, as if I was seeing the her from the future.
I wasn’t.
I was realizing that the her of the past, is not the her of the now.
There’s a part of me that’s emotional about her not being a little girl anymore. And a part of me that’s excited for the same reason.
Maybe it’s because I felt like a co-author for those first chapters, and now I see her taking full command of writing her own story.
She’s capable.
And I hope she lets me peek at those rough drafts, along the way.
tween style file:
I have a nearly 13 year old and you could not have summed up my thoughts more perfectly. She’s not who she was, but dang do I love who she’s becoming. Fingers crossed she shows me some grace along the way.
Totally feeling that too. It’s a WE thing, not a SHE or a ME thing, this growing up.