There is a movie entitled “Motherhood” have you seen it? It’s almost forgettable and surely not watchable if you don’t care about life in NYC with kids, but there is something that happens at the very beginning of the film that I find magical. The main character takes a Polaroid of her daughter the day before she turns 6 and writes on the bottom of the pic “Last day of being 5!”
I thought it was kind of sad actually. It symbolises the end of something, the passing of time, the loss of babyhood. Sad, but final.
I think I kind of liked the idea- and so here we are. But so much of Sunshine growing up is not as much about her as it is me. My feelings of having to let go, my accepting that time moves forward even when I want it to slow down and give me a chance to catch up. We all feel that way about something, or perhaps someone- just one more day, hour minute…just please freeze! Stop!
I’m not good with goodbyes, never have been, but with time you can’t soften the blow by saying “See you later.” We aren’t going back, she will never be 15 months old again, it’s over and gone. It’s time to move forward. After all I had 30 days to prepare for this right? So why does 16 months sound so much bigger, older, less babyish than 15 months?
Today I took a picture, I took a few: Last day at 15 months. I included me in them, because like it or not my child’s existence is about me too. I’m growing up too. I’m getting older too. I survived 15 months just like she did.
But this is a celebration too. It’s good to get older, it means we are still here, still breathing, still growing- ironically it is the STILL, the BEING STILL that I am most interested in.
So today is Sunny’s last day at 15 months. I’m not really ready to turn the page and let go, as silly as that sounds. Here we are, regardless, ready to face time again.