I see you.
I picture you in my mind like it was yesterday. You’re in your early 20s, flaunting that shoulder-length, wild copper hair, looking carefree in a bikini with a little redheaded toddler—me—splashing in a wading pool. The sun shines down, creating a halo around your head, and I can’t help but grin up at you, feeling the warmth radiating from both you and the sun.
I see you, tears streaming down your face in your bedroom. You’re in your 30s now, having shed pounds but carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Your hair is still vibrant, with no sign of gray yet. I sit beside you on the bed, tears in my own eyes, grappling with the concept of divorce. It’s tearing us apart, and while my love for you grows stronger, I can’t shake the frustration. Why is this happening to us? It shouldn’t be this hard, and he’s not even that bad!
Fast forward to you entering the church, now in your 40s with that striking copper hair starting to show hints of white. You’ve donned your favorite green, which looks fantastic on you. As we stroll through the doorway, music begins, and we share a giggle when someone dashes past us to grab a seat. You take my arm and guide me down the aisle. I glance at my new husband, momentarily turning away from you.
I see you waiting at the front door as I come home. You’re in your 50s now, with more gray and a bit of extra weight around your waist. The night is cool, and the air is thick with anticipation as rain threatens. You seem worried, illuminated by flashing blue lights that cast you in and out of shadow. I pass my son to you, trying to reassure you as an officer stands by with my husband at the end of the driveway. I know you want to support me, but I need you to keep him safe. After I’m done, I don’t go home with my husband—I stay with you. Now, I understand: marriage is no walk in the park.
Now, I see you again, this time in a green dress at an entrance hall. You’re in your 60s, and the gray has fully claimed your copper hair. But you still look stunning! You gather my kids, each holding one of my hands, while you hold mine tight as we walk to the front of the room. The music starts, and my little ones guide me down the aisle. You stand proud at the front, and I can tell you know I’ve finally got it right this time. After I reach the front, I take my children’s hands and turn toward my new husband, but not without glancing back at you.
Suddenly, I see a chubby redheaded toddler splashing in a wading pool again. I feel the sun on my head, and he beams at me, radiating warmth. Now in my 40s, my hair is a bit wild yet familiar, and I can’t help but wonder if he’ll remember this moment. As I catch my reflection in the window, I realize something profound: I see you.
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In summary, this heartfelt reflection traces the journey of a mother from her youth to her later years, highlighting the complexities of motherhood, love, and resilience through various life stages.