Edge of Seventeen.
Yes, one of my favorite songs from Stevie Nicks. Also what we are on. On Tuesday, she turns 17.
SEVENTEEN.
When I was that age, I was enjoying the most spectacular
days of my youth with tons of friends, going out to high school parties,
crushing on boys.
She spends most of her days in her room. Half hair headed.
Our days our counted.
And this year, as last year and the year before last, I hate her
birthdays even more. It is a reminder of
the ticking clock. It is the time that is running out.
It is all the things we haven’t done and will never get to
do. (and yes, I mention them often)
But you will ever understand, unless you share a similar
path.
It is the long nights awake wondering if I have done
enough? If the decisions that have led
us up to this point, were the right ones? What stones have I left unturned?
What if I would have chosen differently? What if I die tomorrow?
These are the things that shake me.
A few weeks ago I went to the last dance recital of my
niece. She is in 6th
grade. I saw her dance and my heart was
so full of joy and pride. Then halfway
through, I had to bat tears away. Things
I never had. When she was small, I stopped
going to birthday parties, because it was hard going and avoid comparing her to
other kids.
Yes, emotional police,
I know. I shouldn’t do that. But we do, do that. We compare. I see people with their teens getting
licenses, and driving and hanging out…And although I hold no envy, it
stings. 17 years later; still stings.
She yearns for normal.
And as overrated as that is, I know “normal” would make her
happier.
Which would in turn, make me happy too.
I don’t know how to end this. I usually have some poignant remark on all
the odds we have endured and overcome…but frankly, none of that matters. What
matters is the now. The here. Sometimes
I see glimpses of a teen that could be. And
sometimes it is bleak. But nonetheless,
17 is right around the corner. And we
will have a few days off and we will hang out and bake a cake and maybe hit the
beach and I will turn a blind eye to the gone hair and the other things that
drive me up a wall. And I will sing “Happy
Birthday” to the only person in my life that breaks my heart and mends it up in
a single swoop. And when she blows out
her candles, I will sneak in a wish.
Time.
Grant me more time.
