Missing Teeth

So, it’s Friday. We made to the first Friday of the school year, hallelujah. But that also means it’s the first weekend that’s not summer, and I’m having a hard time with that.

Maybe because Chris is on a trip and missed the transition, or maybe I’m just not ready to be on point from the second I wake up, but I can’t really wrap my head around the fact that summer is over.

She was JUST here, I swear it. But she snuck away like a toddler with a Sharpie. Or an introvert at a party. You’re in the middle of a deep (life-changing maybe) conversation and when you come back from grabbing a drink she’s gone. I know, I know, it’s easier for her that way.

But seriously, Summer, this year I could have really used a protracted goodbye. One last tight hug and a promise to reconnect later.

Now I’m scrambling for something to talk about with Autumn (don’t get me wrong, I like her, I do — it’s just I wasn’t expecting to run into her tonight.) Sigh.

But here we are, she and I, and going half-in isn’t really my thing, so I might as well make it count.

And this girl, my girl, she is light. She’s racing toward fall with open arms and an open heart. Ready to take it all in.

She lost a front tooth this summer, and I can’t tell you how much I love that wide open space it left in her smile.

A reminder that she really is still so young, a reminder of her innocence maybe — that gap-toothed smile might be the last vestiges of the baby that changed my world.

And she does this thing lately where she punctuates the end of every statement with, “Mom, right?” Right?

It comes out high and lilted, leaving a question mark dangling in the air.

And it’s so much more than a question about accuracy. Mom, I am right, right? Validate me, reassure me, agree with me.

Because it matters to me that you do. That you approve. That you see me.

Oh baby, you’re right. You’re always right. You will be all right.

Why don’t I say that?

Not just in my sentimental reflections, or in my head while she sleeps, but out loud, to her.

Why don’t I fight harder to let love be the loudest voice?

Why don’t I say —

I wish I had a thousand summers with you my love, a thousand loose teeth, a thousand first days.