Presence and Puffy Eyes
Despite the absence of a paycheck during this season of unemployment, I find myself deeply grateful for something far more valuable during this moment—extra time with my family. This is the last summer before my daughter (and only child btw) enters kindergarten, before the school bus arrives at a fixed time, homework, and the rituals of elementary school begin.
Since February, in between applications and networking, we’ve instituted “fun days” each week, during which I pick her up early from school and we escape (cheaply) to playgrounds, farms, and, now that summer’s here, have pool-hopping adventures. I’m committed to putting the “fun” in the “fun and freedom” thing this year, with or without a job.
This upcoming week is a big one—she’s graduating from preschool and taking the stage for her first dance recital. Even writing that makes my eyes well up. She’s been singing the same songs for weeks, songs I eventually realized were for graduation. Her tiny voice belts out A Million Dreams from The Greatest Showman like she’s performing at Carnegie Hall. Her teacher even let her pick from the treasure box for “singing so loud” during their practice. She was proud.
Lillie was born in April 2020, right as the world shut down. I gave birth in eerie strangeness. Parks were closed, going outside felt dangerous, and my labor and delivery doctor entered the delivery room wearing what looked like one of the Apollo astronaut’s spacesuits. It was terrifying. But it was also strangely beautiful. Everything shutting down forced me to be more present.
She’s more than my daughter—she’s my hype woman, my creative director, my co-conspirator in goal-chasing and keeps me honest. She randomly tells me I look beautiful when I need it the most, critiques my décor with authority, helps me cross off bucket list items, told me I said “furlough” too much, and surprises me daily with her curiosity and observations. Just yesterday, while watching a movie featuring Louis Armstrong, she asked, “Was his voice like that as a kid?” The question made me laugh out loud, and genuinely wonder, wait, when DID it become so raspy?!?
Her graduation is Friday. Her first dance recital is Saturday. And if you’re looking for me this weekend, don’t. I’ll be a salty, puffy mess of emotion, joy, and disbelief. But also so full of gratitude. Gratitude for feeling it all so deeply. For witnessing her becoming. For getting to be fully present, just like I was when she entered this strange world.
So yes, apologies in advance to anyone seated near me at graduation. I’m already embarrassed for myself.
