She Rested Her Head on My Shoulder and I Didn't Dare Move

She rested her head on my shoulder and I didn't dare move. As we watched the waves roll in, I did everything in my power not to upset the moment. Because it was a moment of joy, as my almost-18-year-old daughter closed the distance that had lately grown between us. It was a moment of hope, that maybe she still found comfort and security there, upon the shoulder that she'd used as a resting place so often in the early years.

She rested her head on my shoulder and I didn't dare move. As the beauty of God's great ocean reminded me of how fleeting this life on earth is, I did everything in my power not to forget that one special moment. Because lately, I've been distracted. Because lately, I've lost focus of the important things. Because lately, it's easier to react to the loudest noise rather than seek out the holy silence.

She rested her head on my shoulder and I didn't dare move. As the sun settled on the horizon, I did everything in my power not to weep. Because just as the light faded, I've felt my moments with her fading too. She'll be out on her own in less than a year. And lately, I've felt the loss of my first baby with her wispy blond curls and determination. I miss the little girl in pink lace who came equipped with equal parts reliance and independence. And I wish I had more time with the young lady who, this year, seemed to magically experience more growth and grace and enlightenment than could be measured, all to prepare her for now.

The pride swelled in my heart with every thought of our moments gone too soon, and the pain hitched in my heart with every reminder that she will be too. So I held back the tears and anchored into that moment when she rested her head on my shoulder and I didn't dare move.

{J}