“We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today.”
~Stacia Tauscher
Mia’s birthday lies only a few scant sunsets away. For the last month, it has struck me, I might never have seen her sprout so fast, inching ever closer to the clouds at a speed that makes my heart just the slightest bit heavy. Well actually, if I’m being honest, this feeling isn’t unique. I’ve felt it at least once a month for seven years straight.
Mia’s uniform, the one that dropped just below her knees before vacation, now grazes the skin just above them. It’s less than half an inch, apparently the precise measurement needed to moisten my eyes.
Our daughter is an amazing child. Right now I find her caught between the little girl she’s always been and the big girl she’s going to be. She has always had her own way of communicating – words she’s latched on to and then made her own, expressions she sings as though syllables are tickling her tongue. About two months back, Mia started (seemingly from nowhere) to use the expression, “Bunny!”
Remember in the Smurfs, when those little blue boogers would use the word Smurf for just about anything; a single magic sound, capable of living multiple lives as noun, adjective and verb all at once. ”Hey Smurfette,” Papa Smurf would say, “Can you smurf me a smurf? And make it smurfy.”
Bunny is a lot like this. When she’s happy, Mia will exclaim, “BUNNY!” When sad, the word arrives in a whisper.
The other day we were cuddled up while watching Disney’s “Robin Hood.” Friar Tuck was scheduled to swing from the gallows.
“What’s that rope for,” Mia asked.
“They’re going to put the rope around Friar Tuck’s neck. A trap door will open in the bottom of the floor and Friar Tuck will fall through it,” I said. “His neck will snap and then he’ll die.”
“Why wouldn’t he run?” She said. “They can’t force him to put the rope around his neck? I wouldn’t do it.”
I shook my head. “Sometimes you have to face your consequence. If you know it’s the end, then running will only turn you into a coward. There is more honor in facing the inevitable.”
Silence….
The movie grew quiet, and Mia was still in my arms. A few seconds passed and then I heard, “bunny,” floating from her mouth like a rare summer wind.
I knew exactly what she meant.
Mia remained relaxed in my arms, offering no further dialogue. Her head rested against my chest where I could practically feel the movement of her brain. She wasn’t alone. I lay there wondering how many more bunnies were left in the bag. When would such a frivolous exchange collapse into memory? When would I find myself in a moment, fruitlessly searching for connection, extracting Bunny from memory and receiving only a roll of the eyes in return?
The march of our minutes is as incessant as the sunrise. There is no hope of slowing it. Days fall and change is constant. I have no doubt that “bunny’s” days are numbered. I wonder what is waiting. I’m certain, whatever it is will not be as innocent or frivolous, but if I do my job then at the least I will not miss it.
Mia is my little girl right now, but if I remain mindful, then she’ll be my bunny forever.
