Sunday, 28 February 2010
It's been six years since I was responsible for more than my own life every waking minute. Six years since every thought and deed has had to be compared to a new standard, one that takes into account not just my own wishes and desires but those of a beautiful, special and ultimately loved and adored little girl.
She's tall and thin, long lithe arms and legs of still the creamiest skin I've ever seen. Pock marked up her legs to her knobbly knees with mozzie bites that she can't help but scratch with fingernails that are ragged and too short from biting them to the quick. Long caramel coloured hair that hangs below her shoulders in a glorious golden brown wavy mane.
Sea green eyes, flecked with gold and ringed with blue. Long black eyelashes that curl up naturally and emphasise the beautiful lightness of her eyes. Fringe always in her face, half the time in her mouth.
She is me, and yet she is not. She has my eyes, but a different colour. My mannerisms but a different voice. My quirks but yet all her own. It's natural to dream for your children, to wish them wonderful things, and to see yourself in them. But the magic is seeing them grow up, and evolve into a whole new person. To stop playing Mr Potatohead with bits of eyes and nose and elbow. And instead to sit back and marvel at the people that they are.
My Elfling is a ballerina. An ethereal fairy who floats in her own reality which doesn't always align with mine. She is graceful and beautiful and sweet. Kind and giving and clever. Artistic and loves language and writing. Still not quite clicking with the reading but every day yields a new discovery and getting to the point where the dream of her lying back on her bed with Anne no longer seems impossible.
She is vague and impossibly dreamy. She imagines and she floats and she hovers, and occasionally she becomes excited and focused and blows us away with her determination and perseverance. She won't be forced into neat little boxes.
I love her to pieces, she is my first baby, my dream of motherhood and my own link to fairyland. But above all she is herself. And we wouldn't want her any other way.