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Moving Day

The little girl who watched her mother pour loose change into the coin machine at the grocery store is moving into her first home today. She and her husband are now homeowners.

This little girl always got her Easter dresses at the Wise Penny second-hand store run by the Junior League. She never really had an allowance. She never got to shop at the Mall just for fun. She got a full scholarship for college and rose above the craziness of joint custody and financial instability: local girl makes good.

This little girl is not a little girl, but a young woman full of ability and promise. She can plan a move, cook a meal, write a blog post, mentor a teenaged sister, play the piano, and imagine worlds as yet unknown.

Today she is a homeowner. And I am her mother, overwhelmed by the gratitude that her life is secure, and joyful. Last night I walked through empty rooms lit by candles and imagined the hustle and bustle of movers as the furniture arrives. And the future holds dinners, and parties, and music: all the things that she loves. Long hours of writing in her journal as she relaxes in the courtyard--her haven in a busy and confusing world.

Motherhood is late nights and nightmares, bicycle crashes and heart break. It is worry and fantasy and the wish for a better life. It is moving forward and standing still all at once. Today I find myself in the eye of the storm. The swirl of activity surrounds me.

I see that little girl, the one who loved long walks with her Grandpère, fine architecture, and having snacks and drinks in the living room before family dinners. I see the young woman who honors me by calling me friend. I see a house which will be a home.

Wherever you are as you read these words, my wish for you is the same joy that I feel today: the feeling that those you love be safe, and happy, and blessed.

 

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