You walk to the doorway and flash that great big beautiful smile and tell me you are really trying not to get your hopes up because you don't want to be upset if he doesn't ask. You say you know he's not going to tonight, and you know he's trying hard to earn the money for the ring, but you were disappointed last year and you don't want to be this year. You are waving a brush around.
You laugh.
You say it all with that smile on your face. That little wall you build up. The one you have when you smile big so it doesn't look like it's a big deal but it really is.
I've got your number.
I say all the good motherly stuff. Like it will happen when it happens and time will fly and all that good stuff. You laugh again and wave the brush around.
I try to let enough time pass before I tell you to look pretty. Do your hair good and put make-up on 'cause I'm going to blog about the party and I want some good pictures. You don't really believe me about the blogging part with my track record and you say you just want to wear your sweats, but I insist on my pictures.
And I've seen your ring and it looks just like mine with silver instead of gold.
But I can't tell you that.
And I can't tell you he wanted to ask you on the ice but there's rain. And that he texted me earlier that he was nervous and I teased you might say no and he texted back quickly, WHAT? That he typed he is crazy about you and he'd probably be sweating by midnight.
That I commented on my future red-haired cajun grandbabies when he showed up at the door after he had talked to your daddy. When he showed up to ask me to give you to him.
Like that's ever gonna happen.
I'll only do what I'm required to do - no matter how much I love the fella' - and I'll never give any of you away.
You're just on loan - for a lifetime.
So you powder your nose and color those lips and I watch you walk out the door to your future - knowing you'll come home never the same.
Me, too.
Happy New Years Eve 2013 Blubird,
Mama
