It is more than just a black truck with chalk on it. The sun shines, each finger of light enveloping my barefoot daughter. She doesn’t care. Her mind is on a black truck and she is eager to add her own flair to the chaos. I am standing, a few feet behind her, listening to music blaring from the stereo speakers, breathing fresh air, my eye focused on each of her chalk strokes. I don’t expect my eyes to be moist, but I feel a little breathless from my own thoughts.
Looking at her, I feel innocence. Her world is full of goodness, green grass, sprinklers, and playing ring-a-round-the rosie with her favorite friend Rachel. She only stops to laugh hard, her whole body shakes with joy, and she grins at me, a smile that understands the beauty of simple things. I stop and savor this life byte because I know it will change one day. She will learn that the world with all its grace is sometimes cruel. As I record this moment in my mind, she turns around, her hands covered with a rainbow of chalk, she yells, “Momma, this is fun, right?” I nod my head as she returns to her task.
She will not be four years old forever. It is a bittersweet feeling, watching your child grow, as every year passes by, they move farther away from your embrace. I remember the day we brought her home. I was so nervous, carrying her like she wasn’t a baby, but fragile glass. When we put her in a car seat, I was worried that the strap was too tight and as I sat in the back seat with our new life, tears streamed down my face. It is the tears that cry at the amazement of bringing a new life into the world, with all its imbalance, realizing that you are responsible for someone other than yourself. Those are shock and awe tears, as I like to call them.
The tears yesterday were different. They were tears of watching todays turn into yesterdays. She won’t be holding chalk forever. Chalk will turn into her holding a pencil, tracing her name for the first time. As she learns to write, pencil will turn into pen, a mark of her entering into the real world. Once she enters this world, chalk will be left behind, a rite of passage of sorts from childhood to adulthood. It isn’t just sidewalk chalk, it is so much more I say to myself, as I walk over and give my daughter an embrace.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Rudri, I absolutely love to see these entries of yours. Some bring tears to my eyes, some a smile to my face, so make me laugh. How wonderful that you are doing this, one day your daughter will get to read all these things and she will love you even more for it. I hope all is well with you, sounds like you are doing great.
Glad you can relate to my posts. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
I love this entry! I got a bit choked up reading this. I think there are many moms who can relate to this. I look at photos of my daughter when she was 4 in her princess dress up clothes, ruffles and frills. Curls springing uncontrollably. My daughter is 12 now and the relationship is so different. It is a good relationship – but I really miss my “little muffin”. I know she still needs me but sometimes she acts like she doesn’t. Take as many pictures as you can and embrace her youth. They grow so quick!!
Keep the entries coming.
Thanks for stopping by. I will certainly keep taking pictures. I know you probably miss the old days of curls and frills, but I am certain there are new joys with your daughter. The pictures are priceless and I will certainly take your advice and embrace these young years. Nice to meet you!
Rudri,
Loved the Chalk Talk today and the photo! Remembering my kids chalking, now my kids’ kids . . . . The sad part of children growing up into adults often brings the joys of childhood back in grandchildren.
It is all good and the rainbows still keep coming.
Thank you for the reflections.
Trish
You know that feeling you get when you are reading a really well written book? Well, I get that feeling when I read many of your posts.
This is lovely. I like to think, hope, that even as todays turn into yesterdays, we can always break out the sidewalk chalk again, if only to stir our memories and help us remember the way the grass felt between our toes.
Awesome blog! Truly an inspiration to all! Happy SITS day!
Live, Love, Learn,
The Write Teacher
You’re a wonderful writer and this post is so beautifully written. I could almost see you watching your little daughter as she writes on the black truck and almost fell to tears. This singular picture evokes so many emotions but mostly one of peace and contentment.
Happy SITS Day and glad to have met you!
My daughter is 4 also. I can so relate to how you are feeling. I find myself tearing up when I watch her through her classroom window or watch her twirl away happily in dance class. Beinga mom is bittersweet and these are moments we wish we can hold onto forever.
This post brought a tear to eye. I have a 6 and a 3 year old. It’s amazing how fast they grow up. I try to absorb as many moments as I can as they grow. Don’t we wish we could just keep them young and innocent forever! Thanks. I’m going to give my boys a hug now. 🙂
Also, you just gain a new follower. Love the blog!
A beautiful post! I am also watching three little lives grow up too fast and I feel these emotions every day. Happy SITS day!
My children are 13-21, and they still sometimes color with sidewalk chalk. We still color in coloring books together, just not as often.
That four-year old will always be in her. You will see it even when no one else does.
You captured this moment beautifully. There are so many equally beautiful moments to come. I promise.
So beautiful. I know these feelings so painfully well.
Oh brother … thanks for making me tear up! 🙂 On a daily basis I feel the tension of hanging on to my babies and letting go. It’s one of the toughest aspects of mothering … thanks for putting it to words.
Enjoy your SITS day! 🙂
You capture life in your words and it/they/you move me. I pray every day that the innocense of childhood is returned to us all ~ that sense of wonder and awe in a flower, the clouds, writing with chalk on a black truck.
Our babies grow up way too fast. ‘Tis true! My oldest baby left home last year and my second will leave in June. I find myself wondering where it went…
This is a beautifully written piece, and I’m so glad I stumbled on it. I have a baby, 8 months old, and was just thinking today how fleeting this time of babyhood is. He will soon be a toddler, and then a child…
No, I agree, it is not just black chalk. Thanks for that.
Okay, Tiffany was right. You’re an incredible writer. You don’t mind if I add you to my google reader, do you?
Happy SITS day!
You are a beautiful writer. So colorful, vivid, and emotional. Reading this blog post was like reading really great poetry. I remember being in school, coming across one of my favorite poets and wondering why they all couldn’t write like this.
This is beautiful.
Kimberly
(Happy SITS Day)
You write such beautiful words. I love the truck drawings too! It looks awesome! I bet she was so proud.
Crying as I read this. I don’t want my daughters to grow up!! P.s. coloring on the truck looks like so much fun!!