“Momma, you are my best friend. I love you so much.” These words echo in my ear at least five to ten times a day. Impromptu hugs, kisses on the cheek, and cuddles are a regular staple of my daughter’s daily routine. The recipient of these gems is usually me.

She is six, an age where unconditional love is abundant. When we walk in the parking lot to school, she grabs my hand even when there are no cars in the immediate pathway. In the middle of the night, she often wakes up, groggy, checks her surroundings, and whispers “Momma.” I ask her if she is fine and she responds, “Yes, Momma. I am fine. I was just checking on you.” Every single day she sketches and colors pictures of the three of us, she in the middle, and my husband and I decorate each side of her. Everyone is always smiling. Even when I scold her, minutes, no, seconds later, she asks “Momma, are you still mad at me?”  She follows me around as I do chores, asking me how she can help. Sometimes I think I’ve put my daughter in a hypnotic trance and I wonder at what age her adoration for me will end.

When will I not be enough for my daughter? When will she forget those smiles in the picture? I grab her tight, squashing down the doubts, trying to embrace what is, rather than what she may see as what isn’t sometime in the future. Will she remember the feeling in that picture? The Saturday afternoon at a friend’s birthday party. A photographer approached us and asked if we wanted to get a mother and daughter shot. “Let’s do it, Momma.” My daughter shrieked at memorializing this moment. I hold her tight in my embrace. And she extends her hand, I do the same in unison. I can feel her smile, her toothless grin excited that she can take a picture with her Momma. This fills me up and I smile, with a full heart, wanting to put this moment in bubble that never pops.

I wonder at what age she will forget.

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This piece is part of Momalom’s Five for Five Series. This is my response to the prompt age. 

 

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