Unwritten

If there's one thing I've learned for sure this school year, it's that being the mother of a senior is not for sissies.

Lord, help me!

Those of you who read my blog post in August know that I had a very emotional time wrapping my head around the fact that I was in the final stages of preparing my oldest daughter for the world beyond her childhood. 

A dear friend and I joke that next year we will need to start the MOPS equivalent of Mothers of College Students (MOCS).  We thrived under the emotional support of other young mothers in our MOPS days, and we feel that the experience of emptying the nest might again require some serious emotional support from girlfriends in the same boat (and perhaps several shots of vodka).

When Kenna was born, I was unprepared for the incredible love that would blossom immediately. 

I was unaware that a mother's heart was capable of such devotion and protection.

These were wonderful discoveries and, not counting a few dozen or so sleepless nights in the past eighteen years over my daughter's procrastinated projects, I have absolutely LOVED each day in my role as Kenna's mom.   

Today, I sit face-to-face with my own procrastinated project: assembling the video summary of her childhood to present to her this week at her graduation luncheon.  

How do I begin to sift through the scrapbooks and digital images saved in computer files in order to select the 450 most meaningful moments (from the thousands of photos) in her life so far? 

Each photo triggers memories.

Each expression tugs at my heart, as if begging to make the cut.

Gregg and I attended Kenna's Thespian Awards Banquet last night. 

We affectionately refer to it as the Drama Prom.

The students attend in Oscars attire and the rituals and traditions that run so deeply in this theatre crowd are "willed" from the seniors to the remaining thespians. 

Awards are given, new inductees are honored, and the senior slideshow is shown.

Blast it.

It's like the world is beckoning my meltdown.

For the most part, I've held my poker face.

I've honestly relayed what my mind knows to be true.

Kenna is ready to fly.

This is a very exciting time for her, as I remember it being for me when I was her age.

Then today, Gregg and I sit down to attack the graduation video project, and I fall to pieces when we pair Amos Lee's Sweet Pea (her first nickname) with her baby photos. 

I can instantly smell the Baby Magic lotion I slathered on her soft skin and recall staring at her cherubic hands as she slept against my chest, as if willing the details of those tiny dimpled knuckles to embed themselves forever in my memory.

Moving into the adolescent stage of photos, we notice a theme: LOVE

Kenna is constantly hugging and sweetly kissing siblings and family members and friends. 

After listening to dozens of possible song choices, we choose Ingrid Michaelson's Everybody.

Feeling grateful to be among the recipients of her great love, we watch adoringly as, across the screen, this girl's love is so generously doled-out on others.

Our collection of photos from Kenna's years and years of theatre productions are set to a show tune.

Every three seconds or so, an image of Kenna in one of the numerous roles she has played over the years flashes before our eyes.

Each costume stirs a memory of the countless hours this girl has spent in the theatre between auditions, play rehearsals, painting set pieces and creating show posters. She has worked with tech crews and organized the loft and given her heart to this first love: The Stage.

Now, her future is unwritten.

Just as Natasha Bedingfield's song explains:

No one else can feel it for you,

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten

I'm absorbing these lyrics fully as I see the ambition in photographs of my daughter's eyes.

I know she is indeed ready to take flight.

She will, undoubtedly, fill her life's pages with words of insight and self-reflection.

She is strong and brave. She loves fiercely and loyally to those she deems deserving.

As Gregg adds the finishing editing touches to our graduation gift, I watch... numb from the whirlwind task that just consumed an entire Saturday.

He presses play, and I am overwhelmed with simultaneous love and grief.

I watch as my beautiful daughter grows from an infant to a high school senior in just over seventeen minutes. It's surreal.

I wish I could rewind and freeze several moments in the past, just to relive the preciousness of the moment.

There are other moments I am happy only demand a few seconds of my attention.

Her book is unwritten, but one thing is sure...

I can't wait to read the first edition!

Love, live and create with intention,

Kristi