Girl In The Pill Box Hat.

Lily had her first dance recital this weekend.
It was big in every way.
For me, at least, and a couple hundred other parents.
"Are you excited for your performance today Pumpkin?" I asked, so excited myself.
"No Mama. Because I am doing it."
And so it went.

She was ready.

She's gone regularly to her ballet class, embraced it with joy, excitement and focus. And this performance has rested gently on her horizon for a few weeks now, and for her, for whom everything is still fresh and new, performance anxiety has yet to rear its ugly head.
This child is happy in her body.
Proud of her abilities.
Broad in character.

Rooted in her existence.

So when the curtains were closed and all I could see were ballet shoe toes, positioned IN the curtain ripples, I was on the edge of my seat. Curious to see how she would fare - on stage, with no view yet of what existed beyond:
Antsy-beaming-parents-with-every-recording-device-available-waiting-with-baited-breath.

And there she was.
Away she went.

All smiles, focus, shaking her hips, pointing her toes, jumping on cue (or early with excited anticipation).
Doing her thing.
In sequins, hat, and fringe.
She
just
had
fun.

I was so proud.
Relieved.
A positive first on the stage.
In the lights.
A beautiful accomplishment.

So many changes this year in this girl.

Her drawings are more and more representational.
Flowers, rainbows, houses, trees, ferris wheels, playgrounds and suns.
I like what she sees.
At school I hear her class mates calling her in - with eager glee.
Relationships now her own.
She writes letters, is into rhyming.
Word curious.

And of course the Mary Poppins obsession continues.
I just saw Mary!
We've had multiple sightings.
She is present and otherworldly.

Three is cool.
Beautiful cool.

Will It.

This morning I met a woman, older than I, further along in life and its experiences and we spoke about how we move forward, past loss. I said Lily is my purpose, that one has to be resilient to endure.
She said there are many people who are not strong in this world.
Many.
She said you have to Will It.

So true.

I always felt odd when people commended me for my "strength". Yes, I was and am aware of it, that power I harnessed when Alan and I were deep in the trenches, the energy I found when we were broken in spirit, and the determination to continue on with my life for Lily, with Lily. But to me despite my slumps, dark moments, and ever ache, it is what one does.
You rise to the occasion.
It's what you do.
I think.
I thought.
And though there were times when an end to my life seemed enticing (had I not been pregnant),I knew, having seen a love robbed of his - that that just wasn't
a
fair
choice.

No Way (as Lily now frequently exclaims).
No.
Way.
It was a selfish thought.
Foolish to even entertain.

But ahhh that's what death will do.
It caresses those left behind, sells an unknown destination, hijacks a beating heart. Leaves you sitting in unbearable quiet.

You have to will it away.
Will yourself to stay - as best you can.

And for that, you need only to whisper a wish - quietly to yourself.
No strength required.

Mother's Day is one of my toughest holidays.
But I will will myself to find wholeness where there is indeed a hole.

This morning when Lily awoke way way WAY too early and crawled into my bed, I loved feeling her soft hand under mine, resting around my waist.
It was
the
best.
So soft, unscathed, warm, relaxed.

Her love and presence fill me up.
She lives with such abandon she is freeing to watch.

She
just
IS.

Willful without intention.

For her, it is all about being.

Effortless.

Pure.