Monday, 30 March 2009

• My Girl

   

  Junior ran in her first 5k race this past weekend.

  At first, I couldn't see her for all the other hundreds of runners.  I had been standing on my toes, eagerly looking for her; and had even moved up the race pathway so that I might see her more quickly as she came down the last stretch.  Could she really run that far? I wanted to offer cheers of encouragement as she ran, and comfort her if she was upset.  Even at 13, I know that some things can easily upset her.

  But a beautiful, young woman, ponytail swinging, wearing jogging shorts and a t-shirt caught my eye instead.  I couldn't look away as I watched her quietly, but determinedly, making her way through the other runners.  Even from a distance, her grace and understated strength were evident.  For a moment, as she ran out from the shadow of a tree, and over the reflective surface of the still-damp road, she glowed, and I wondered what it was about her that caught my eye, and kept me from continuing to look for my daughter.

  Then I realized that it was her, and my heart stopped for just a second, and I choked on the knot suddenly in my throat.  She was so mature and lovely.  And I realized that time really does pass much too quickly for a mother.  Instead of comforting her, I found myself holding back tears of...what?  Joy, loss, happiness, sadness, over-whelming pride?

  The race was over in just a few short minutes for the best runners.

  At the end, holding her prize for winning her age group, she was all of 13 again.  Maybe less, as she giggled and demanded that I buy her something for beating everyone else.  It reminded me of a a time when she was much younger, and good behavior was often rewarded with a prize. But a piece of me can't quite erase the image of the woman I saw jogging along, passing everyone else, looking so strong and sure of herself.

  And I am filled with awe and wonder.

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