She recently rocked a red leopard-lined “fashion coat,” polka-dot heart leggings, and a leopard cat suit (complete with boa tail). She enjoyed dancing in this outfit all over the mall to the delight of patrons. Because she is my third child, I loved it. I was a different mama to my first born; she never left the house in a mismatched outfit.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m more tired, or if apathy has finally rolled all the way in. Quite likely it’s that I know these days are numbered. I know Mama will not be her hero forever. I know someone will tell her she doesn’t sound like a rock star, so she may quit singing. I know she will be laughed at by peers and that (may) affect her desire to fit in. I know this, because I’ve seen it with her two older sisters, and experienced it myself. Yet I hold on to the hope that she will always embrace her spitfire ways and never care too much about what others think.
My college roomy aka best-friend-turned-sister sent me a note the other day in response to me freaking out over my physical appearance, and an upcoming mini-reunion. I’d just run 12 miles in preparation for my first half marathon, and instead of being proud, I was down because I did not like the reflection in my mirror.
By the way, college roomy is the baby of her family. We should all have at least one of them in our lives & seek to emulate their confidence and zest for life.
Lee Ann Womack sings it best: "May none of us take one single breath for granted" "I Hope You Dance!"