Sunday, November 4th

Woke up this morning wondering how to anchor this day and to not let it vanish wordlessly and soundlessly in the long chain of Sundays of the past that have been folding up on themselves behind me.

The answer soon came in the form of the little lady waking up, freshening up and then proceeding to preen before the dresser for a very long time, trying different hairstyles and different clothes on and asking how she looked. Mommy’s lipsticks were surreptitiously retrieved and applied and the hair was artfully moussed with an excess of mousse. Then the pretty face smiled up at me and asked how much it would hurt to get her ears pierced.

Now the hubby and I have something against piercings and are horrified daily by cashiers in book and music stores, baristas at the bookstore cafes whose every facial feature is studded with something and we had decided a long time ago that if we ever encounter a daughter who wants something pierced we’ll deny the request with vehemence and then concede to each ear being pierced. We had imagined this would happen sometime during the teen years, not at six.

But the young lady wanted to start wearing earrings and my heart went “awwwww”. So we headed for the mall today and got the ears pierced. She looks like a beautiful young lady now and I hear the dinging alarm in the back of my head at how precious and ephemeral these moments really are.

Well, the preening in front of the mirror has temporarily abated as the bed started looking appealingly trampoline like to our princess and now she’s airborne, and falling backwards and forwards, screaming how she feels like a yo-yo!

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