my sweet, little lark story,
this morning was ordinary. your brother was off to school. dad and i were getting ready for another work day. and you were happy as can be. typical. some might even label it as mundane, boring…routine. but it’s our ordinary.
the world has a way of making you feel like you NEED more, WANT more…and somewhere in the need and want, we tend to forget about the simple things in life, the little things, the day-to-day responsibilities…
mama was once a little girl with long, dark ringlets and an imagination as big as the great, big sky. life was simple. all i did was dream. i could be whatever i wanted to be…a pretty ballerina on a big, bright stage; a singer belting out the biggest of tunes; a doctor saving lives; an artist sharing beauty with the world…innocent and free…but then she grew up. and simple and ordinary turned into complex and confusing. and the little girl started to fade, just like her dreams.
it’s easy to let others crush your dreams, laugh at them, or even believe in them, because sometimes you find a fellow dreamer and that little spark reignites. but crushing your own dreams, that’s the worst part of life. too often i compare myself to others, hide parts of me in fear of being rejected or mocked, live in fear that i might fail and others might see. so i catalog the dreams, in a dark and musty drawer of my soul, letting them painfully decay over time, giving up, time and time again, telling myself not to bother with them because i’m just simply not strong enough to put my whole heart and soul out there on display. and i hate to tell you any of this, because all it really means is that giving up is the easy way out, and that i let things beyond my control affect that precious, little dreamer of a girl.
and then you were born. and there’s some kind of unexplainable thing that happened when i became your mother. it was like an old, black and white television with a grainy picture that suddenly became clear, colorful and vivid, replaying those innocent daydreams from that musty drawer. and a little fire started up inside me, warming every inch of my soul. with your arrival came a renewed joy to my ordinary…
but i wasn’t prepared, not in the least bit, for the massive change happening right before my eyes. every outlook on every piece of my life changed, in an instant, in a teeny, tiny package of you. i wanted more, i needed more, but not in the old sense of i-need-and-want-more-stuff-money-things-to-be-happy way…i wanted and needed more of this sort of “drug” i’d just been given. this amazing and most wonderful high of motherhood. the ability to see and feel everything in a whole new light. the ability to see and feel everything through your eyes as you grow and learn.
you inspire me to be. it’s that simple. your life is ours to mold, protect and grow. what kind of mother would i be if i didn’t set a good example? i promise to always believe in your dreams and i promise to always be an example of that from this day forward. it saddens me to think that someday you might withdraw from things you love. my heart breaks knowing that someday, someone will make you feel like you can’t do something, or that you’re not good at something. then i think how heartbreaking it must be for my own mother to watch me give up and give in and waste my most precious talents, when she’s been the biggest believer of them all.
there are parts of our ordinary that get me down. like having to let someone else take care of your needs while i go to work. but i have to work, in order to provide a life for you. so many are unable to truly do what they love. i have the abilities and tremendous talents to do what i love AND provide for you. but i’m scared. and since you were born, that fear is lessening by the minute, letting that little fire burn it out, because you are helping me see through the smoke, a vision of that little girl with big, bright dreams.
it’s time for mama to be the artist that she truly is. it’s time for mama to show you that it can be done and you can live out your dreams. i know, it’s so cliche, but now with you in my life, i can see the importance of it now more than ever.
my wish is for you to be proud of me. my wish if for you to have a fulfilled life. my wish is for you to be the biggest, little dreamer of them all. my wish is for you to see the beautiful, tiny moments in the ordinary, everyday routine that make all of the struggles worth it. the colors of the sunrise of a new day; the warmth of a comfy bed in the morning; the taste of a delicious meal; the touch of your hand from the man that you love; to color outside the lines because it might just make the picture that much more beautiful; the simple, the beautiful, the every day…the ordinary. the little things that write your every little story…your little lark story.
and i will teach you, and i will live in such a way that you grow up to believe in yourself, because you watched your mama believe in HERself. and you will always be my constant reminder that all things are possible. because that’s what little girls believe, that all things are possible, and they’re right.
thank you for opening that dark, musty drawer in my soul. and thank you for continuing to take the little girl inside me by the hand, and guide her back through life by showing her the magic of daydreams again.