I know I don’t usually post on Thursdays, but I colored my hair this morning. A process I admit to going through every 6 or 7 weeks, because I much prefer Chestnut to salt and pepper. As I gathered the things I needed, I grabbed an old towel from a stack of old towels on the bottom shelf in the linen closet. Soft and yellow, the color of a baby duck. The towel Amy picked out before our first trip to Honolulu more than 6 years ago. We bought three cheap towels to pack along for the beach because we weren’t sure if motels provided beach towels. (They do. We know that now.) And as I touched the soft yellow towel, I felt like crying. Amy was only up to my shoulders when this towel was new.
I don’t deny it. It’s been an incredible experience, watching Amy grow up-slowly and surely making the transformation from child to adult while working through the process of defining herself. She wants to be an archaeologist and she’s starting to consider where to go to college to pursue her dream. She’s excited about her future-and that makes me excited for her, because I love her and I want her to find her place out in the big wide world.
Wherever that may be.
It’s just that those soft yellow baby duck colored towel moments can be a little tough.