I say goodbye to her and she looks at me with the sudden realisation of what is happening. Her hand reaches out and I smile and I kiss her and she screams and I say ‘see you soon my darling’ and I walk away bravely (so bravely) with the image of her face wet with tears and the feeling of her tiny little fist grasping my fingers and sensation of my heart thumping hard against my chest.
I know she’ll be fine after I’m gone. I know that when I come to pick her up she’ll be smiling and playing with her little friends. But no matter how much I rationalise it, it still doesn’t make it easier.
I sit in a cafe and I work and I think about being a parent. I think about love and letting go and faith. I think about pain. I think about losing loved ones and I think about enjoying time with loved ones and I get mad at myself a little for thinking about such things. I think about guilt and I think about how I don’t want guilt to be the emotion that comes to mind when I think about parenting. I will never feel like i’m doing enough or being enough or showing enough love. I feel as though I will always question my decisions and actions. I can rationalise myself out of thinking those things and so i hope, like my yoga books assure me, that if I repeat my mantras often enough they will eventually change the way i feel.
When I come to pick her up she smiles at me and barely acknowledges that I’ve been gone. When I ask her how her morning was, she tells me that she ‘cried for mami’. And I hold her tiny body as we walk to the bus and i feel her tiny arm wrapped around my neck and i kiss her tiny cheek and i tell her ‘te amo’ and she says ‘amo’ in a way that a teenager might say ‘yeah, i love you too’ and so I hold her a little tighter and try a little harder to savour savour savour these moments, each and every tiny little moment with this tiny little girl that make up this glorious life.