Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Run, Baby, Run

Last night I had to go to the high school to pick Mark up after basketball tryouts. Kira, of course, came with. As we were sitting out in the car waiting, Kira asked if she could go in the school to use the bathroom. I checked to make sure she knew where it was (it's a big building), and then said sure.

She got out of the car, and ran to the doors. Her hair (which comes about halfway down her back) was bouncing and flying and glorious, her arms were flailing in that little-girl-run way, and my heart just squeezed with love for her, and a tinge of sadness.

She's almost ten, you see, and growing up so quickly. How much longer will she run from place to place? How much longer before running isn't "cool"? Will she adopt the self-conscious walk that says she thinks everyone is watching her, and judging? How much longer until her running is totally efficient, arms held closer to her side, hands held in a clench? When will she stop grinning when she runs, for the joy of it?

She was running away, from me, to a place where the big kids, the young adults, go. Going out of the reach of my arms, where I could be there and hold her and keep her safe. Going towards independence and self-sufficiency.

When she reached the doors, she slowed to a walk and just looked so grown-up, my heart hurt again. She disappeared inside. I worried, a little. Would she find her way all right? Would she get lost, be scared? I waited.

Soon enough, but not soon enough, she reappeared at the door. Pushed it open, passed through. And ran back to me, hair flying, arms wild, and smiling. Oh, smiling. All was right in her world, she was filled with joy, and secure in being loved.

Run, baby, run. mk


Capt. Brenda said...

beautifully written!

markira said...

Thank you!