wrapped up with a bow.

waking up before the rest of them, i brew the coffee, fold the quilt, organize clutter. i greet remy's new "big girl doll" with a smile and then think of her: a big girl in her own right. asleep in *my* bed still, with her daddy. safe. i recall hearing her fear a flight away from her. a gasp perhaps, a bellow, something that jarred me awake. sitting up waiting, it took only moments to hear her frantic pitter patter. she was coming. she was frightened. panting she swatted at each step with her tiny little hands as she climbed the steps, determined. she scurried into my awaiting embrace and when i asked her what was wrong, she kept it simple: bad dream. i pressed, curious, and asked. "what was it about?" she lowered her head to her chin and nestled in closer to me, "i don't want to tell you." and that was that. her vulnerablility only goes so deep. such as with her, always. it makes me think of how both remy and her brother, ezra are growing into their own people. it makes me think of their personalities, budding and new. each day. they reveal something about who they are. authentically *them*. i remind myself NOT to do what my mother and others have done with me, my family. i will not box them in. i will not, in an proud effort to "have them figured out" ever 'tell them' who they are. or expect that they need to KNOW that just yet. i will resist the urge to ask them "what they want to be when they grow up" in a way that suggests that this MUST be decided now. never. i want to continue to unravel them, each their own rolls of ribbon, beautiful and continous. it is not necessary for them to ever dress themselves up with a bow. real childhood, real people are messy. on the inside.