I took this picture of Norah on Saturday. She had exited our noisy living room in a huff, stomping up the stairs and loudly sighing that she “needed a little space.” After twenty minutes of silence, I tiptoed up to look for her and found her in my office, writing in her notebook. I snapped this shot and then silently backed away, not wanting to disturb her privacy.
Later, she brought me the notebook, proud to show me what she had written. It was a long description of the day’s events, from our morning trip to the zoo to the hour we spent riding bikes at the park to lunch at home. She spells words phonetically, and still mixes up her b’s and d’s, but she managed to capture not just our activities but her feelings about each one. I felt a strange sense of gratitude that she wanted to share her journal with me. There will be a day, not too far off, when she will keep that from me.
The kids share a bedroom. This is both a necessity in our small house as well as a conscious decision J and I made. I believe it’s helped their relationship, and there is nothing in the world that I cherish more than the moment I sneak into their room before bed to check on them and kiss them goodnight, my two loves safe and sound in one place. But I know that Norah is starting to mature, and that she will need a space of her own soon. She needs a place where she can escape, where she can write and read and dream and pretend. I’m going to make a tiny reading nook in my office for her and I’ll fill it with soft blankets and an ottoman and her favorite books and art supplies.
This year has brought the first signs that my “baby” is growing up and breaking away from us to become her own person. It’s so bittersweet to witness this. I know that she will have more and more that is just hers as time goes on, and it breaks my heart a little.