I love words. I love to write them. I love to know their meanings. I love to know their origins. But speaking them - not so much. You can't edit and delete spoken words. You can't eat them and take them back.
Tomorrow my beautiful little five-year-old turns six.
On one hand I can hardly remember life without my little Maeve Liliana, on the other hand it seems only weeks ago I played the role of midwife as her mother delivered her at home on the floor in the back hall.
And tomorrow her mom will read her the story of her birth (Granny Has a Midwife Crisis) as she does each year on her birthday.
Her party is tomorrow and Mommy has been sick most of the week so I went over there tonight to help in whatever way I could. This included giving the birthday girl a bath, braiding her hair and doing her nails.
During her bath our conversation included her telling me (for the umpteenth time and as if I didn't know the story) about the sad day that her her mom's mom, Grandma Alma, passed away from a heart attack. (which was about six years before her birth)
"Granny, if she was still alive, she would spoil me rotten. Well... not rotten as in rotten. She would just spoil me with love and toys."
"Yes, Maevey. She would spoil you. And even though you can't see her, she knows all about you and she is so very proud of you. So proud that her only granddaughter is so kind, and beautiful and smart. And she'd so pleased that you are such a friendly loving little girl."
"I'm a big girl, Granny."
"Yes, Maevey, yes you are."
"And Mommy's sister, Aunty Angela would also spoil me with toys if she didn't pass away too. And she would totally love to come to my birthday tomorrow."
"Oh yes, Maeve. Aunty Ang would be here for your birthday if she could. It would be one of her favourite days of the year."
Granny's heart simultaneously breaks and bursts with pride for her granddaughter who has always seemed wise beyond her years.
After her bath, as I was doing her hair, mommy came in the room and said, "Thank you so much, Granny, for coming over. I really didn't have the energy to help her bath and do her hair tonight."
I continued braiding Maeve's hair as I responded, more to her than to Mommy, "Oh, I was totally excited to come spend the last day with my favourite five year old."
The room falls silent. Miss Maevey's eyes filled with tears. "Granny, is this really the last time you are ever going to see me?"
Oh.my.heart! "No! No! Maevey Mouse, it's just the last time I will see you as a five year old. Tomorrow you will be my favourite six year old!"
Relief washes over her face and I am stabbed with the reality of the power and force simple spoken words carry.
No matter the intended meaning, or the casualness with which we speak, we really have no idea how forcefully our words are capable of affecting those around us. Especially our wee ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment