I could remember her being so little, cheerfully sitting in the outdoor red swing that hung from my kitchen doorway. She would sway back and forth and use wooden spoons as drum sticks, as I danced around to Joan Jett songs. She could barely talk, but the words "more" exited her mouth more often than not.
The same image continued over the years, with only the evolution of growth occurring.
This "thing" we do, is probably my most favorite thing to do with her. It's our time to act silly, sing as loud as we want, and have dance offs (and just to add to the visual image, I can neither dance or sing)... You know, the silly stuff that you can either do at 7 years old, or 30 years old - when you're not so consumed with "fitting in."
And that time is quickly creeping up to us. The time when she'll start rolling her eyes and easily become embarrassed by me when I do something silly in public. Now, when Katey Perry's Roar comes on and we're in the store, I grab the nearest item and pretend it's a microphone and start jamming out... She laughs and joins in... But soon enough, she'll leave the isle and pretend she doesn't know me anymore.
And when that day happens, I'll fixate on those lost Friday and Saturday nights in my tiny kitchen. When her smile was as big as the sunrise and I was the most important person in her life. It'll seem like a story that I once read before bed. It'll hardly feel tangible. But, it'll be locked away, deep inside me. And I'll smile, and tear up, remembering those Happy Days that I once thought were so consuming.
But until those days arrive, I will gladly welcome a dance party with my little girl, any day of the week.
And, I'll hold onto the moments -with both fist clenched, never letting go...
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