My favorite happened this afternoon when she came up and asked if she could whisper something in my ear, but it was long so she hoped I could hear her for all of it. "Ummm, I really want to write more about going to camp and maybe make a scrapbook so I want to take pictures but my camera doesn't have any batteries in it." Have I mentioned that I call her the keeper of our stories? It is a well deserved moniker.
She is only excited. About staying up late and bible study and bonfires and fun games in the big field and all those kids. Bounce off the walls, when can I pack, how early can we get there excited.
I am mostly ill about it in that overprotective, where has the time gone, how in the world did you get big enough to just stay while I have to drive away way.
But her excitement is so over the top and contagious and pure that I'm certain I'll live to tell the story and I'm also fairly confident I won't cry until after I've gotten back to the car. Only fairly, though.
I'm trying to stay right here in this day where my daughter is really excited and looking forward to grand new adventures. I'm trying not to look ahead and think of it as the first time she just stays while I have to drive away. I'm not very good at the staying right here part.
I zoom ahead to first dances and driver's license, dates and college drop offs. My mind just can't sit still.
The thing is, I want her to live this big, bold, beautiful life. I want grand adventure and bravery and truth and beauty for her. I want big love and epic fail. All of those things sound great in theory, but in reality they sound like first time at camp and getting hurt and taking risks. They sound like failing and succeeding, getting hurt and overcoming. Things my mama heart wants to run from, protect her from, act as her human shield about.
But I can't. And I won't.
So she'll go to camp and she'll stay up too late and (I hope) she'll brush her teeth now and again and maybe even hit the shower. I hope she'll grab some fruit and/or veggies at meal time and rest a little bit during quiet time. But what I really, really hope is that she'll make enough memories and have enough brand new fun to fill a nice, big scrapbook. I hope she comes home with new stories to tell. Stories that are just hers, but that she'll share with us. Lots of little stories that will add to the big, wonderful story of Audrey.