A Night for Magic Wands

Tonight was a night for magic wands.  It was a night for transformative nose wiggles.  If only, with one gesture, I could tame the leering pile of dishes in the kitchen sink.  Vanquish the judgmental pile of laundry on the bedroom floor.  Tonight, I was even too tired to push a button on the microwave.  Exhaustion simply wasn’t the word, so I’ll try another language.  I like the way the French say it.  Je suis crevée.  Basically, I’m exploding from exhaustion.  The bottom is falling out of my insides.  I’m so tired I’m falling apart, and I can’t move. 

I knew that motherhood would hurt. Thirty-four hours of labor will do that to a girl.  But what about the hurt that no one talks about?  The stubbed toe caused by the toy carelessly thrown on the nursery floor?  The back pain from lifting the infant car seat in or out one too many times.  And the heartache, standing in the driveway, when your daughter drives away to a college on the other side of the country without looking back.  I have no doubt this is how my own mom felt when I did this myself.  And I know that one day it will be me standing in the driveway, and it will be Leilani, off on the adventure of a lifetime, leaving without looking back.  At that moment I won’t be able to move. 

Each day every ache and pain is washed away.  Each day every sacrifice disappears.  When I receive that unexpected kiss that Leilani hadn’t wanted to give me all day.  Or that embrace that makes me know that, no matter where life takes her, no matter what fabulous adventures the wide world holds for my Leilani, she will never really let me go.