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She puts on my shoes and tries to walk around the house. She giggles and grins, her smile going from ear to ear. And my heart melts, right there.
Some days I still can’t believe that I have a daughter. That there is this little girl in my house, and she is all mine. I watch her slip and slide, falling after only a few steps, trying to maneuver through the house in my shoes. In mama’s shoes. Some day her feet won’t be too tiny. I watch her making her way across the room knowing that too soon she will be wearing my shoes with ease.
There is a little girl in the house. Dancing around in mama’s shoes, feeling so big with each step she manages to take.
I was bummed that the photo I had planned to take and share didn’t happen. Then I was going to hold off until tomorrow because we are going to the OKC Pride parade tomorrow. So I had planned to write a post today about wearing long skirts and the presumptions people have about it.
And then Saffron threw her sippy cup and started crying, so I had to pull over. I turned into an old train station with boarded up windows and a crumbling step. My mind was elsewhere, trying to find her cup under the seat, when I heard Evan reading out loud.
“White waiting room”
And I froze.
There, in front of us, was a piece of history I hadn’t expected to find. I suppose I naively believed these signs and markers had long been stripped away, painted over, and burned down. Outside of museums and protected landmarks, where would these displays still belong?
The afternoon was filled with looking at photos online, talking about the way things used to be, the way things still are, the way things should be. Things that Evan and I talked about before came crashing into reality with those two doors.
“My friends and I wouldn’t have been able to play together?”
He cried a little, and I cried a little, and the 6 y/o and the 4 y/o walked away a little more aware of the realities of the world.
My inspiration is the people who came before me, the people here now, the people yet to come. The ones who fight tooth and nail to make the world a little more positive for the rest of us.
It’s Saturday, and that means I’m finding my inspiration for the week. It’s a little late today, but I’ve got a good reason.
This:
The plan was to try once again to find a local farmers market. Once again, I failed miserably. Driving back, the sight of the mountains in the distance just seemed too inviting, despite the bad mood. So I turned left instead of right, and the next thing you know the kids and I were half way up one of the oldest mountain ranges in the US.
If that’s not inspiring, you’re not alive.
Cacti and wild plants everywhere, moss growing across huge rock outcroppings, and hawks circling overhead. The view is breathtaking. You can see for miles, out over the towns and the highways, to the deep blue/gray that the other mountains seem to be in the distance. And butterflies, butterflies everywhere!
We’re planning to go back next week, prepared to go higher up and deeper in. Water bottles, the mei-tei for Saffron, and lots of sunscreen. And the camera, definitely the camera.
Summer Minor is a freelance writer, divorced, and bipolar. She is learning how to fight her own dragons. After a lot of rocky starts and some big bumps in the road, she's learning who not to trust and what not to do in this thing called life. Read more here.
Some days I still can’t believe that I have a daughter. That there is this little girl in my house, and she is all mine. I watch her slip and slide, falling after only a few steps, trying to maneuver through the house in my shoes. In mama’s shoes. Some day her feet won’t be too tiny. I watch her making her way across the room knowing that too soon she will be wearing my shoes with ease.
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