Of Mice and Disney Nightgowns

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen,
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

"Vincent" by Don McClean


Details. It's the details that get me every time. I'd be ok. I could manage. Could survive, could at least get by... if not for all those details.


She's around 4. She might even be 5. She's the only one who's not in school yet, which means she gets to spend the day with me. She sleeps too late, my little sleepyhead Fred. It's time to start the routine. We have a great routine. We have a ritual. It's a grab and take, a sweet, sleepy, lovely kidnapping of sorts. I know the drill. Get the boys ready for school - load them in the car. Then my real work begins. Get her blanket - the pink soft one with the ribbon border. Wrap her up. Scoop, carry, deposit, buckle, drive, drop, drive, park, unbuckle, re-scoop, carry, sit, hold, rock, kiss, marvel. It's that simple - I enter her room, make my approach...I'm as quiet and stealth-like as a cat....but there's so much more. Like the way her hair is too long to belong to a girl her age. I can't believe that it's long enough to hang over the side of the bed. It's too puffy, maybe a family of tiny mice has made a mansion along the nape of her neck? I'm supposed to be scooping now, but she's sucking her thumb. I spend an eternity looking at that little mouth. A rosebud. A thumb with a tiny callous. I know I should pull it out, but I secretly admire her. She alone knows the miracle of self-soothing. Disney nightgown. White sheets with pink flowers. The little stuffed kitty that really purrs. I pick her up. I coddle her head against my chest. I smell her breath. This is the smell of Heaven. This is the smell that haunts my dreams. It's cotton candy. It's too ripe bananas. It's the smell of white roses that bloomed exactly three days ago. It's the best smell in the world - the smell of angels' wings and powdery snow. I didn't know then that I should bottle it and sell it - or keep it safe forever. I wish I had that smell now.


It's just the details. I didn't pay close enough attention. I wish I could smell her one more time. Oh, Chynna - I still miss you! Today I miss little you. Little 5 year old pink and white striped wallpaper with antique furniture and a Little Tykes dollhouse in the corner you. Little Esmeralda nightgown & why won't I let you wear your plastic dress-up shoes to the grocery store you. Precious little not old enough to walk to Aunt Kathy's house alone might fall asleep in a beanbag while watching "Little Mermaid" you. Take care, little one. I love you more...triple stamp it, no take backs, gotcha.

And, I commemorate 14 months without my baby girl.