Friday, April 22, 2011

girls

When I bought this house, I was pregnant with Beezus. At the closing, the selling agent was pregnant too, and as it turned out, she lived right next door to the house we just bought. We both had girls. And the day she told me she was pregnant with her second child, I called her to come and stay with Beezus. Lucy hadn't moved in a while, and I went to the hospital and found out she was dead. She walked every step of this grief with me. It wasn't the way we imagined living next door to one another would be, but I couldn't ask for a better neighbor and friend. She isn't sappy, but she doesn't shy away from conversation. When Thor was born, she gave me a necklace with all my babies' names on it. And  we cried together. Our boys are eight months apart, which seems huge right now, but one day, one day that won't be a big deal at all.

The girls, though, are becoming friends in a way that I couldn't imagine happening so quickly. They want to hang out all the time. I can already foresee them playing after school together. Beezus is four, and all she talks about is A. next door. If she hears a squawk from the girl next door, she is at the window, shoes on, wanting to get her bike out, or her rollerskates, or just to run alongside her while she plays. Finally, they are at an age where the girls play together without parents, call to each other from over the fence and just go play. No hovering. No dates. Just ordinary kids, kicking dirt, or whatever. I always wanted that for my kids. Just to have a space for them to be kids, and hang out with neighbors and discover whatever it is they are supposed to be.

Today, we were planting vegetables in the front beds when the neighbors pulled in. A. tottered over and asked to play with us, and I said sure, and her mama said, "Just send her home later." But I gave them tools, and watering cans. And they followed behind me like little goslings, and asked me questions. And we planted everything we bought. We dug out weeds. We watered. I wore Thomas Harry on my back in the Ergo, and the girls shared tools like they were growing up and trying to get along, and I felt this sense of deep serenity and peace being around both of them. Little girl energy is good. We talked about our favorite plants, and we all decided where to plant the zucchini--between the butterfly bush and the lilac--because why not, really?

When we needed to go in for dinner, she followed us. I texted her mother and told her that A. could stay longer, if she wanted. We all decided on food that we all like. They painted pictures while I cooked, and then they asked to play upstairs. I said, "Of course." And they scurried up the stairs, then I screamed after them, "Just please come when I call you for dinner, girls."

My heart was pounding and the room was spinning. I leaned against the island. Fuck. I had two girls, not just one perfect little girl who likes unicorns and pink and kisses on her eyelids. I had two girls.

Two.

Girls.

I always imagined myself saying, "Girls, time for dinner." Girls, I love you.

21 comments:

  1. Wow. How powerful to finally get to call out to the girls but to have so much missing at the same time. I'm sorry you are not calling both of your girls to dinner. So very sorry.

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  2. Sometimes, it's those tiny moments that make us catch our breath and it sinks in just how much we lost. I wish Lucy were underfoot and getting dirty in the mud with you all. xoxo

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  3. The summer after Maddy died, a friend came and left her daughter with us while she went out for a few hours. Bella was older, and pulled her around in the wagon all afternoon and I remember thinking the same thing every time the word "girls" left my lips.

    Tonight we're having guests: old college friend with two daughters. We haven't seen them since our wedding, so it will be interesting. It will be especially interesting to see what could've been in an alternate universe.

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  4. Sometimes I think the Universe sends us what we need in ways we can't fully appreciate at the time. Little, seemingly insignificant things that take your breath away when you least expect.

    It sounds like you ladies had a wonderful afternoon :) Wishing you had both your girls with you, and I love reading this post. I hear the terroir of lilacs provides for excellent zucchini.

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  5. It's those unexpected moments that do just take your breath away, and I don't think most people would understand.
    The other week, while on my walk home from school, I spotted a little girl walking out of her front door and onto the pavement. I didn't see her Mummy, so I parked Ernest (in the pram), and started to usher her back into her front garden and to her house to find her Mummy. She, instead held up her arms for me to carry her. I did, it was delicious, just holding her safe there on my hip while I found her Mummy.
    I had to stop myself from crying as I handed her over.

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  6. oh gosh. those last paragraphs caught me. As they did you. These moments....shit.

    I am so envious of your day in the mud with little goslings behind you. It sounds like such a perfect spring day. And I am so sorry for the dizzying moment in the kitchen. When the realization of everything lost comes rushing back without notice. Hold on.

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  7. You caught me with the ending there, and it's tragic and beautiful all at the same time. I'm glad for Bea to have A, and that they enjoy each others company. I think of you often.

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  8. I wish you had both your girls with you.

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  10. It's strange because as much as we still think about and talk about our babies so often- little things can still shock us and seem so out of the blue!
    I wish you had both your girls too Angie.. I have that same wish for every single one of us.

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  11. I really like this. I remember when my H was still just a yearning, I loved it when K would have a friend over and I could say "boys". It felt right. Now I have two boys and had a girl on the way and that felt so right, too. When she only lived 28 hours...well, now saying "my boys" feels like a phrase to hide behind so I don't have to explain to strangers and make them feel awkward. And I want to say My Kids or My Daughter and have it feel whole.

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  12. These are tough moments. I wish you got to say 'girls' all of the time.

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  13. I miss that life we were all supposed to have. Screaming babies in the middle of the night. Siblings for the ones we already have. I miss your Lucy. And my Aiden. Like I knew them both. xo

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  14. Gigi was playing with her reflection in a mirror the other day and I had that exact thought. This is what my life was supposed to look like. I should have had two girls who looked just alike playing there with each other. Missing all our girls.

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  15. That kind of made me do an 'in labour' groan. Until I was pregnant with Freddie, I never wanted boys. I wanted to always only shout "girls!!!" Now all I hear is that I still can.

    Lots of love.

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  16. Tis the little moments isn't it?

    Love to you Angie. xoxo

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  17. I had a taste of this today when we visited my sister in law - the one with Emma's shadow cousin. I watched my Lucy playing in the garden with her cousin, dressed as fairies and hunting eggs - a mixture of playmate and mother and it twisted my heart. I cried. She's so lovely with Toby but she would have loved to have her sister to play with.

    A wonderful bittersweet post, just lovely.

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  18. Angus spent all day Sunday playing with his girl cousin, aged three. It is the first time they've really got to hang out, as we don't have much to do with this part of our family. My heart was pounding all day as well, just as it did reading this post.
    I'm so sorry, Angie.
    xo

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  19. 'girls', that is so loaded. Beautiful...

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