The columbine that grows in our garden underneath the playroom window.
I was unsuccessful on both counts.
Little did I know, the tears I shed that day would be no match to the gut-wrenching pain of watching my 15 year-old child walk out the door, without saying goodbye…again.
My 10 year-old son was teasing my youngest daughter and threatening to eat the last Pop Tart, if she didn't pay him a dollar.
Aaaand, for the eleventy-hundredth time, I was reminded that…DAYUM!…but, I am the mother of a teenager.
I have a lousy poker face, okay?
She was angry (I know, act surprised anyway…okay?) because, well, it's Monday, the first day after spring break and I had the nerve to remind her that, you know, she had to wake up and go to school.
Later.
"Um…you're going to be late."
[ducks to avoid imaginary flying daggers]
No, my oldest girl was NEVER a morning person and I thought it best NOT to remind her to hang up her wet towels.
Much later.
My husband Garth (not his real name) was in a rush to get out of the house, this morning (I know, act surprised anyway…okay?) so, I thought, you know, perhaps he sat on a wet towel, or something.
[eyes go wide]
Oh…sheesh…for a second, I thought, well…anyway…has it been 10 years, already?
[shrugs shoulders]
Then, he left and…well…there went another issue…yet, to be resolved.
Long story short (you're welcome) a lot has changed for our family in 10 years and I can't help but feel a sense of melancholy — especially, on a day like today — but, like the flower growing underneath my windowsill, as a parent of two teens and tweens, Columbine holds a brand new meaning for me…not just today…but, every day.
I just hope I remember to tell Garth (not his real name) that, later.
Then, my middle girl ran outta the house and, well, I was once again reminded that…DAYUM!…but, I am a mother of TWO teenagers…because, she forgot to kiss me, too…only, this time, I was able to reach for a towel.
Aaaand, tried really hard to NOT care that it was, you know, already wet.
It's times like these when I can't help but feel my family's unresolved grief seem all the more, I dunno, insignificant in comparison to those who have to deal with the loss of a child…every day.
So, in honor of Columbine, I resolve to quiet my heart…since, you know…it is perhaps the least anyone will ask of me, today.
I just hope I remember to tell that to Holly, later.
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