Thursday, September 16, 2010
That Time of the Year
I watch her black backpack with the pink and fuchsia hearts bounce up and down as she skips, I take it all in; her tiny curly ponytails with tiny bows, her skinny splotchy legs, and her sparkly sneakers, so worn down there is barely any sparkle left. “I must throw them out soon.” I think to myself. I happily gaze at her smile that is so broad it causes her eyes to squint. I catch that rare glimpse of myself.
Noelle reaches up to press the elevator button which she knows is way too high, when she can’t reach, she hunches her shoulders, feigns exhaustion and says with big dramatic breathes, “I…can’t….reach…it.” I press the button and she giggles. For a minute I see two. I see the shadow of Lauren behind her, and I can sense the presence of those sneaky, “what ifs…” They aren’t concrete thoughts, but I know they are there. Quietly I usher Noelle onto the elevator and wonder what it would be like trying to rustle identical twins around during the day. Would she cry when Noelle cries? Would they fight? Would they talk in unison or finish each other’s sentences? My older son insists that Lauren would be “nicer” than Noelle. I can’t help but wonder.
Around this time of year, I have learned to let myself be. Not try to over analyze how I am feeling at any given time. I have stopped beating myself up, adding more suffering on top of my sadness. It is what it is, while it is.