I leave through the garage. My bare feet sink in the thick grass as I cross the yard. I’m so thankful this year that it is soft and full from being nourished by all of the rain instead of crinkly and brown like last year.
I enter my neighbor’s gate and make my way to her pool. I see my girl standing there, dripping, eyes red rimmed from the tears she has shed.
The swim teacher greets me, “Did you hear her crying?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No, I was in the house.”
“She just has to conquer her fear. I know she can do this. Please don’t let her quit.”
I rest my hands on Cady’s towel draped shoulders while looking deep into eyes that are so different from my own, her light to my dark. I feel like I can see straight to her heart which mirrors mine more than I would like to admit sometimes. I feel the fear ice through her veins as it percolates up through my very soul.
“We can do this. I believe in you. We’re not going to quit. Okay?” I wish my faith in her into her heart so that she can believe in herself the way that I believe in her.
She looks down at the grass as a droplet slips from her hair and down her cheek. Nodding, she determinedly whispers, “Okay.”
I pull her into a hug. Her wet head presses firmly into my chest transferring her damp to my shirt right at chest level. Releasing our embrace, we clasp hands and make our way back home.
I’m sharing this story about being a mom with Shell for Pour Your Heart Out.