I've been going over it again and again. Reliving it. Feeling it. Letting the experience sink it, and trying to absorb just how big the moment was. Hoping, with every fiber of my being, it happens again.
I see the relationships other mothers have with their daughters, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a twinge of jealousy at times. I love K, sometimes more than I think I can bear, but connecting with her in the deep way I see other girls connect with their mothers is just something I never thought would happen for us. I was "OK" with it. Maybe we don't have intimate conversations about life, and friends, and whatever else your average 10 year old concerns herself with, but we do have something really special, and for that I am grateful.
Then last night happened.
I had gone out with a friend, and when I got home I sat on the floor of our den to talk to my husband. On the floor because I have a raging case of "my shoulder hurts really bad", and he was doing his best to massage out the pain. It was almost 10 pm, and I thought both the kids were in bed, but after a few minutes K came downstairs...
She sat down in front of me, legs crisscrossed like mine. She placed her hands on my legs, looked me in the eye, and asked if I wanted to hear about something she had done on the computer.
Let me just stop for a second so that can sink it.
And for me to have a moment to close my eyes and relive it again. And catch my breath.
Usually, K dances or hops into whatever room I'm in, and launches straight into whatever she has come to share. Then, as quickly as she came, she's gone. Being still when she speaks is not something she does. Sitting with me, having a conversation, it's not something that happens. She's constantly moving, and jumping, and while I treasure the moments she chooses to share with me, sometimes I do fall victim to that twinge.
But last night...last night she really engaged with me. She anchored herself, hands on my legs, and connected. I asked a few questions. She answered. Sitting there, looking at me, going back and forth. I don't underestimate how much work those few minutes were for her. She stumbled over words, stopped to collect her thoughts, but stayed with me. The intimacy I felt in that moment with my daughter...I really can't put into words how it made me feel, or how it continues to make me feel today.
When she was finished, she stood up, but didn't run off like she usually does. She stood there, looking at me. She gave me a hug, and asked if she could sleep in my bed. Of course I obliged. I never wanted the moment to end.
It's hard to throw me. I live thinking I know what to expect from my kids, because there is a consistency in how they are, and I've made myself comfortable with it. I thought I had high expectations, but in reality there is so much I have crossed of the list. Things that don't even come to mind as possible. Things I'm not even aware could happen.
But now that I know better, and I'm excited to see what's next. There is something that will come next, another moment that takes my breath away. Now I know to wait for those, that they are possible, and that, well, there are no words for how that makes me feel.