Daughter, I am WITH you

She looked so beautiful.

It was almost annoying, which sounds insanely petty of me, but I bought that sweater off Amazon for myself AND… of course it looks entirely different and much more beautiful on her.

Everything does, actually.

And no matter how much I would like my clothes to look or at least appear somewhat attractive on my own body, I simultaneously am in awe of how beautiful absolutely every piece hangs on her, as if it was made for her.

How could I not be in awe of her.

We have similar taste in clothing, despite our 30 year age gap, which is nice & probably rare.

Not in music, however. I loathe her music, mostly. I miss the days when we would blast Bruno Mars or the soundtrack from Teen Beach Movie through some random Bluetooth speaker. The kids once had a speaker shaped like a peanut that their grandparents had given them. Those days feel as far away as our tea parties with all the girls… the American Girl dolls, that is.

I now have a lump in my throat simply from typing that out.

Time feels like an enemy at this point in my life. There is absolutely no slowing it down. No lazy Sundays or long weekends- just a whole lot of hurrying.

There’s not hardly a day when I don’t grumble about having to chauffeur her somewhere, or 10 somewheres, all while I’m left practically in tears when she steps out of the vehicle because I know full well, this is all coming to an end all too quickly.

She won’t need me, as the chauffeur soon- in just a few months actually.

And there it is again. That Lump, yet this time it brought its companion, Deeply Rooted Anxiety.

Do I sound crazy? Because I absolutely feel it.

Tonight I was playing the role of chauffeur & in typical fashion, as I was, one-hundred percent in character, I didn’t feel like driving because dinner had just been pulled off the grill by my son.

Gosh, there’s hardly nothing I love more than a meal completely cooked by someone other than myself. If you know me at all you might understand.

But out the door we ran, all while she looked utterly fabulous, yet completely casual in my oversized sweater that wasn’t even a bit versized on me. I can’t even be mad about it.

And we get to where we’re going and I kid you not… she decides to NOT exit the vehicle. She stayed put, clinging to her seat, head facing outward and eyes staring rather blankly out the window.

She has reasons that are reasonable sounding to her, but not necessarily to me.

And she doesn’t need one either.

Not with me.

Because, daughter…I’m WITH YOU.

You got all dressed up but now you don’t want to stay? Some vibe isn’t vibing? You’re feeling insecure or overwhelmed or- you just don’t feel like teenager “small talk”?

Listen I get it.

Do you want me to convince you to stay?

Tell you, you’ll have fun? Because I’ll do that, if you want. I’m the cheerleader in this game. But I can switch sides in a moment’s notice, however I’m ALWAYS on your team.

Oh? You don’t?

You want to go all the way back to our home after we sat and stared at the other classmates hanging out and playing games together from our vehicle, for the last 30 minutes?

Ok. Home it is.

No more questions. Nothing else needed.

Nope, stop apologizing, daughter.

I’ve been there. I am STILL there.

Just today, I nearly cancelled plans with friends for an event that is 2 months away! Why would I even make up an excuse for something that far out???

I am WITH YOU.

Every single step of the way… I am here.

You owe me no explanation. Anytime, you want to come home, stay home, not go, be somewhere else, got to target, stroll and get a Starbucks… IT IS OK.

And it always will be.

I’m with you.

For however long you’ll allow me to be… here I am.

Also, is 8pm too late for Starbucks?