The Sea

Tick, tock goes that mean old clock. One, two, three and four... and then no more. My little LuLu stretches big under the covers, in her boxed-up room. The past few days her heart has raced and teeter-tottered between joy and thrill to nausea and fret. She fears she will have no friends. My sparkling girl.


This Sabbath morning the house is full and still deep in slumber. A chorus of deep and slow melodic breathing sounds out from every room. Even the couch cradles two baby girls with scraps of midnight crafts scattered half finished on the coffee table. Just like thirteen year olds at a sleep over, but they're not. They are twenty and spent the late hours of the night creating pintristy decorations for October's wedding. Lace will be the first baby girl to marry come this fall.


And in six days, another adventure begins for my May. Hah! Was she ever really mine? Up, up, up, and away, her wings stretch like an eagle... and she soars, oh sweet Lord, she soars!  And even though my tired and fragile heart rattles around in my chest, I accept that her mission is bigger than mama and any attempts to tether her would wound those beautiful wings. But I will have grace on myself, I will not let Shame accuse me in my episodes of worry.


My Jasmine, who is in all perceptions, still sort of mine, starts high school tomorrow. Each day her petals delicately unfold into loveliness and leave behind the baby bud she used to be. And now comes dances and football games...and boys!


And the man who holds us all stirs behind me. Rest is a hot commodity for this sweet guitar playing hippy boy turned Vice President in a tie.


And the sea...


still touches the shore and recedes...


and repeat, repeat, repeat...