When I'm nervous, I can never speak the words I have in my head. My tongue jumbles them and twists them around and I'm lucky to get out any sentence at all, luckier still if any of it actually makes sense. I see the bewildered looks, and don't dare offer explanation out loud - settling for desperate telepathic messages of sincere intent. There's so much I wanted to say, but couldn't risk damaging the day. And the day was EVERYTHING...my beautiful daughter and her family.
My daughter will never call me Mama again in this lifetime - but "Look at Grandma", Billy said...and I could have fallen to my knees in tears at that moment. I cringe that I do it, but I walk on eggshells, afraid to make a mistake. I am grateful my daughter allows us these halting steps, these moments that I can see her, be close to her, see my beautiful granddaughters. I look at her face - hoping I'm not staring - and try to feel her heart. It's all I can do not to reach out and touch her, hold her as close as I used to. Back when she called me Mama and I was younger than she is now.
Proximity is all I can hope for. Proximity is all that will allow pockets of opportunity.
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