When I was asked to participate in this portrait project a year ago, I agreed with little to no thought. It seemed like such a sweet opportunity to force me into documenting a year of my children. And sweet it was, although not always easy. You see, the quick-to-commit me never considers the busy weeks. The weeks that would have me grabbing my camera on Sundays at sunset, yanking the arms of my children into the last bit of sunlight to force them into the most natural (cough) settings and begging, pleading with them to cooperate for "10 minutes! I'm only asking for 10 minutes." And sometimes even stooping to, "I'll buy ice cream on the way home if you let me take your photo." But inevitably, even the busiest weeks- the weeks when it seemed the project was an after thought- that time that was spent with my girls became fun and full of laughter. Eventually, sometimes even after my 10 minute time limit, the real Fiona and Neve would shine through in spite of my yanks and threats and ice cream negotiations. Wherever we were, whenever we were together, it always became good. It was a weekly adventure, and the camera would disappear and the sun would set and we'd still be laughing or walking down a dusty road arm in arm or pulled into the book du jour. This project, more than anything else, gave me intentional time with them. And I'm so thrilled to have 52 reminders of it.
Dear Fiona and Neve,
In a year I've seen you shed so much of the baby that you were holding onto. It's bittersweet to hear you ask me to turn the lights off after you're in bed. You can properly wield a knife and a fork now, and sometimes you even remember to place your napkin in your lap without my reminder. You make jokes that are... actually funny. Not just funny because they are coming from your cute mouths, but jokes that are truly funny. You have opinions, and I love watching you fearlessly share them, even if you know others may not agree. I've witnessed countless times in the last year that you've rushed to the side of the little guy, never labeling, but always out of love. I've watched you make goals, and I've found hundreds of lists in the past year. Some of these have made me laugh, and some have made me cry. I've found hundreds and hundreds of drawings that prove your artistic abilities, your inherited dark senses of humor (obviously not with the intention of being seen by me), and your unique voices. (Most of which we've kept in a blackmail vault). I've watched you both become best friends and, within seconds, worst enemies. I am challenging you both to learn to listen to each other more in the next year. You will be lifelong friends. Give one another the respect that you've given your other friends. The reward is great. One of my favorite accomplishments in the last year was learning that you both can cook. Fiona, your scrambled eggs and toast are beyond compare. Neve, you make better coffee than some baristas. And while I miss having to tie your shoes, or cut your food, or clean behind your ears, I take far more joy in watching you grow into capable, beautiful, smart, and confident young women. I may never stop cringing as I watch you make faces that are just too old, or when I hear you talk about boys, or as you ask for lifted footwear, but I promise to always let you be the baby you need to be with me. (In other words, please don't ever stop putting your head in my lap or kissing my cheek.)
All my love forever and ever,
Mama
2 comments:
Ya done good, Mama! Irreplaceable memories - kudos!
Oh...your words are simply beautiful! Your girls will treasure this love letter forever.
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