A Message from Lizzie

A message from Lizzie

Dear Mom,
     I remember my first dance. You were so happy. You did your best to get me all prettied up. I was so nervous and you calmed me down. In that moment I was happy, but I dreaded the second I would have to leave you.
     Now here I am, a preteen who still goes to my mom when I am sad, or when I need help, or when I just need someone to tell me that I'm gorgeous or clever - you always make me feel loved and I thank you for that. Even though you spend your days educating kids that make you lose your mind, you still muster sympathy when I say, "Mom, I got an A on that test!" or "Mom, my stomach hurts."
     You always told me that my existence is reason for yours, but really, Mom, it works both ways. I can't live without you. I can't wait for the day I can hand you the keys to a beach house and tell you I love you - that you don't have to work anymore, that everything is ok.
     When I went to that dance last year, you were on my mind the whole time and I couldn't thank you enough. I loved you so much I couldn't explain in words.
     My message remains the same!
     Happy Valentine's Day!
     Lizzie

I remember that dance. Her date was Kyle Reed - a wonderful young man (then and now) who would become her very best friend on God's Green Earth.(He'll tell you the same.) I was as excited as her if not more. For all parents, guardians, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and godparents out there, you know what I mean. Your little girl is going to her first dance, and you want it to be magical.  I'm not sure if it's the same for men, but, for women, we have visions of a fairy tale swirling around in our heads. For some, it may be memories of your very own first dance or desires of how you wished your first dance might have been. You want this first experience to be so wonderful that one day the memory will filter to her own daughter. And the fact that this encounter developed into such a special and precious friendship makes the memory that much sweeter.

So why am I sharing? Because Lizzie is still making her presence known.
I found this note in the most unusual way - cleaning (well, unusual for me) and in the strangest place - among recipes (I'm not known for cooking.)  From the first of December to the end of January is a really tough time for me. I cry a lot . I stress. And I walk around like a glass half full.  Almost five years later and the pain cuts as deep. I was feeling really low when, tucked between printed. folded, and dare I say, untouched recipes of artichoke dip, creamed brussel sprouts, and tuna casserole, a pink sheet of paper peeked.  I  believe that Lizzie chose that moment to remind me that not all memories are sad and to stop dwelling on them. She was telling me to stop wrapping myself in misery  Instead, I should focus on those special memories, relive them, and share. 

By the way, I don't need a recipe for artichoke dip. I've got that one down to a science.