21 June 2007

Grace. Beauty. Style.

I pull up next to her passenger side. She leans over and rolls down the window. Her hair is up in a messy clip, thick auburn waves escaping in the breeze. She looks amazing, glowing. We chit-chat through the open windows for a few minutes, her sparkling laugh always at the ready. Finally, she says, "I have something to tell you."

She exits her car, comes around to my window and tells me, "I have a job interview Friday." I ask where; she tells me how she's so proud she did it all by herself. (Her father does not yet know... he doesn't want her to work - she's a 4.0 ~again lol~ and since he hasn't worked in 8 years, I guess he figures she shouldn't either.) She tells me she did have Grandma and Grandpa look the app over, since she'd never done one before.

She's all smiles. There's something different, something about her presence that strikes a chord down deep. I can't quite put my finger on it. She's so proud of herself. "I feel so different about this; happy." I smile at her, "Independent and grown up, maybe?"

"Yea," she says, flashing that brilliant smile. She stands with a quiet self-assurance, thanks more to her sister and grandparents than her father, and she just has a natural beauty that glows and captivates. I feel the swell of pride, a maternal sadness, mixing with the infectious charm coming from her.

Then I realize... my babygirl is growing up.

miss b


Wien. said...

Don't you just want to squeeze 'em?

Miss B said...

yea... maybe one day she'll actually let me hug her again... heh. we're at the tail end of the "I hate my mother and don't want anyone to see me with her" phase... phew! :)