Wednesday, April 24, 2013

7

Once upon a time you could not eat a whole grape by yourself. Instead I would bite it in half with my front teeth and push slivers of it into your mouth and you laughed. Now we are here where you can eat whole grapes if you want, pluck them off the stem yourself with long, dimple-less fingers and talk to me of racism and what makes airplanes rise.
This is 7. Angled teeth and tiny rubber toys that fall to the bottom of your backpack, pop music, ears pierced, you tell me now not to look when you undress. Are you looking? you ask, and I say no even though I am looking at an optical illusion, my depth perception most certainly off. How did you get so far away? I am looking but I can't see how this happened, your sense of secret and other and me suddenly just there like that. Who are you?

Because suddenly I can see the slippery slope a bit more sharply, how quickly 7 slides into a time when you will answer these questions for yourself. I'm a designer, you might say, or an accountant. My name is Zoey and I am an alcoholic, a teacher, a thief, a mother, a phlebotomist. The truth is, you will be many things to many people, the girl who wears leopard print high tops with a thousand yard stare behind starfish eyes, but I hope you always define yourself knowing that beneath it all lies this constant: you are loved.

7 years ago today they told me I might feel some tugging, some pressure. And then there was the strangest hollow suction as they pulled you from inside of me and you cried. I tell you that on that day your soft baby nails grabbed at my heart trying to hold on, that to this day you carry a piece of me with you. You can roll your eyes, but it's true. How do airplanes fly? Something about lift and force, laws of motion, I looked it up online. More often than not I know things are true without totally understanding them. A piece of my heart is inside of you, and when you are 37 years old I will still watch closely when you eat grapes to make sure you don't choke because I love you, the certainty of that like the ground beneath your feet even as you rise.

Happy birthday sweet girl.
Mommy

6, (5 is missing), 4, 3, 2, (1 is before I had a blog).

9 comments:

Jen said...

Thank you for yet again, putting into words how my heart feels. I think you've done it on Zoey's birthday ever year and I am forever grateful for your beautiful words. Happy birthday to our big girls. xo

krista said...

sigh. yes, happy birthday to zoey. seven, huh? seven. it sounds so large.

Shannon said...

The depth of your observances and flow of words make tears stream down my cheeks. Thank you for sharing so much. You are such a talented writer! i keep you and your beautiful family in my thoughts and prayers.

kerwin said...

Absolutely beautiful, your words and your daughter. Seven is big. How do we ever get over the grapes?

Chelsea said...

Happy birthday sweet Zoey! I've been reading your blog for years, Susannah, and your beautiful writing has always made me look forward to being a mom. <3

sunshine said...

Happy 7 and beyond Zoey! You are a lovely little girl and I am sure you will become an awesome woman as well!

Cathi said...

Happy birthday Zoey- beautiful words, as always! xxoo

Heidi F said...

Ah, grapes...My youngest is 13 and I still find myself calling out from another room, "Are you okay?" if I hear more than one cough in a row. Happy birthday to your beautiful daughter!

Lara said...

I always love your birthday posts. Happy 7 to your beautiful girl.