Girl Talk

Last night, we split up into a "boys' car" and a "girls' car" for the rides to church and back home, since, as usual, we'd met P for dinner before all heading to Wednesday night Bible class. On the way home, Sarah talked, and I listened, and it was great.

She said her favorite memory of just the two of us was that time when we went to the mall. Seeing as this isn't the 90's and I'm not Cher Horowitz, I was a little surprised by this - and to be honest, I still don't actually remember the trip in question. Apparently we bought Sarah a lunchbox (at the mall?? I don't know...) and she thought it was a super cool experience. She went on to wax poetic about The Mall, with its stores and yummy places to eat and that really cool sarcophagus that "remember, Mom, I went into it and you took a video of me coming out like I was a mummy? And it was SOOO funny..." What's funny is how a seven-year-old finds endless delight in an ancient Old Navy, a limited-service Sonic, and the truly bizarre SeaQuest Aquarium, which not only exhibits an array of pitiful, captive sharks, rays, and chickens (so weird), but also has a functioning sarcophagus.

You never know what's going to 'stick' with these people.

For instance, I would've sworn that her favorite memory of just the two of us would have been our trip to see The Nutcracker at Bass Hall last month. That was certainly my favorite experience of the recent past - getting dressed up together (pantyhose all around!), weaving our way through the stunningly gorgeous (and incredibly crowded) foyer, all the way to the entrance for our seats, which were mere yards from the stage and perfectly positioned to see everything; as we waited for the show to begin, we gazed in wonder at the beautiful Hall interior and watched the parade of little girls in Christmas dresses being guided to their seats by mothers and grandmothers and dads and big sisters... And then the curtain rose! The music! The dancing! And our excitement to see our little friends Harriet and Bruce, shining throughout the entire party scene! The costumes and the set! It was truly a spectacle of wonder... Sarah was fascinated by how strong all the male dancers were - how they kept picking up the girls and carrying them around! And I loved watching her initiation into performance arts, her eyes transfixed in wonder on the stage, both of us lost in the beauty of the movement and music... I loved that she enjoyed it as much as I did. I loved that I could point out one thing that amazed me ("look how high he jumps!") and she would return with a comment of her own ("Her dress is so beautiful..."). I loved the fun of getting a snack at intermission, and how determined Sarah was to have her picture taken with one of the nutcrackers standing in the foyer. Afterwards, we did not see our friends (they had probably gone home as soon as their roles were over), but as we lingered out on the sidewalk, waiting for our boys to pick us up, I noticed a handful of people exiting the side of the building and guessed by their heavy make-up and slicked hair that they were some of the performers - and so we cautiously approached one of these women so that Sarah could meet her and tell her how much she loved the show; the woman told us yes, she was a dancer, and that she was in the Dance of the Flowers, and would we like to take a photograph together? And although my sweet girl was too overwhelmed to say a word, she nodded fervently and smiled big for that picture with a real ballerina.

When I mentioned the ballet during our car ride home last night, Sarah said, oh yes, she loved that, too - she had just forgotten about it! And then she was quiet some time before asking me, "Mom, were you sad when your grandmother died?" I tried to explain that strange sort of sadness that we experience when we miss someone deeply but are happy for them, too, and she shared that she thought that she would be really sad if one of her grandmothers died. We both agreed that she has some pretty special grandmothers, and then Sarah said, "I just can't wait to be a grandmother. I mean, I can wait, but sometimes I don't want to." I asked her why that was, and she said, "Because when you're a grandmother, you get to have kids and grandkids."

I love this girl of mine so much. She continues to amaze and bless me with her sweet thoughts and insights, her generous spirit and her fierce loyalty. She is deeply thoughtful and carefully observant, and given enough space and quiet, she will let you in to her world of wonder and invention, and you will probably be the better for it. Or at least deeply entertained.