For Meagan

She staggered down the stairs this morning, her hair a wild mess of dark brown curls. Giving me a groggy wave, she shuffled into the bathroom. I had to smile, as I noticed the pockets of her pajama pants flap at her side because she hadn't bothered to tuck them in when she got dressed for bed.
Waif thin and petite, my soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old daughter had stayed out late with her friends. It had been the last night of spring break before she went back to college.
It's the little things about someone you love, that you miss most when they are away. Those silly untucked pockets, or the way she walks on her tiptoes when she's being goofy at the store. I think of those moments with tender melancholy, now that she has packed up and headed back to school.
Other precious moments of her childhood come to mind. My daughter when she was three, long blond waves of hair obscuring her impish grin as she pinches at the air. Her adoring father had just told her not to get any cuter.
"What are you doing?" we ask with confused amusement as she continues to pluck at the air and gather pretend nothings into her arms.
"I'm getting more cuters," she answered, daring us to stop her.
My husband, never one to turn from a challenge, proceeded to chase Meagan around our tiny living room. Catching her and wrestling her onto the couch, he then snatched the cuters and set them free while my daughter plucked more out of the air.
Finally, he had to explain to her that she had exceeded her cute limit and could not possibly be any cuter or the world just couldn't stand it.
This morning Meagan and I shared coffee at Starbucks and talked about anything that came to mind. Some of our conversation was serious, but most of it was goofy, like a Gilmore Girls script with no plot line attached. Or a series of random movie quotes interspersed with inside jokes that made us laugh, but would mystify any observers.
As we drank coffee, I felt something like mourning, and yet it was sweet. Tears come to my eyes as I think about how precious a treasure she is to me. Those big grey-blue irises outlined in black that grew dark with concern as we sincerely discussed a friend's problem, then twinkled with mischief as she reached across the table and pinched me, just because.
Her life is such a joy to me. Remembering the child she was and seeing the woman she is now becoming. What a blessing it is to see her grow and become, but it's mixed with the bittersweet because she's not that giggling little girl anymore, squealing through the house as she ran from her father.
Disobedient girl, I've told her all her life that she could never grow up, but just like her father she's taken it as a challenge and defies me.
Well, you show me sweetheart, you grow up and become the awesome woman that God created you to be. I love you very much.