One look.
Tousled bangs fall across blue eyes.
An angry red brow pinches together atop the bridge of her tiny nose,
forming a canopy that casts a shadow over a firm gaze.
Her tiny jaw is stubbornly fixed. Lips gathered into a pout face,
poised and ready to release a stubborn cry if I dare provoke her will.
That’s all it took and suddenly I was standing in my mother’s shoes staring down my own unyielding manner.
Naturally, I too set my jaw in response.
My brow flies up and opens like the quick drawback of a curtain to an action scene.
But I soften my eyes and slowly lower my gaze to meet her own.
Shoulders squared, my knees bend.
I fold my body onto the cold wood floor as a peace offering.
Unclenching my fists, I rest my palms on my thighs.
“Jane Elizabeth.”
She lifts her hands over her eyes, hiding her face from me.
My disposition cracks and splinters right down the middle,
sending my heart to my stomach.
Gingerly, I pull away small hands and brush back strands of hair revealing that her will is still very much intact.
Half pleading, half saddened I look into her blue eyes.
“You can be mad. You can put up a fight. You can cry. But don’t you ever hide your face from me.”
I say this as tenderly and firmly as a mother possibly can when they so desperately try to inscribe the truth of their love upon their child’s heart. Hoping their feeble words will transcend spoken language and take root in their very soul, springing upward and blossoming into belonging as they grow.
She releases her brow. Her shoulders fall.
I take a deep breath and do the same.
The dog wanders by, pulling her attention from me as she chases after him, laughing.
I am left kneeling on the threshold of her room.
The morning sun splashes onto the floor through the window by her dresser.
Pecans fall and crack as they hit the pavement outside,
pigeons softly coo from the treetops.
Her bare feet smack the floor in a thumping cadence as she runs through the kitchen.
Please, don’t ever hide your face from me.
_
C. Leslie