Post by jordansmom on Jun 7, 2004 2:47:13 GMT -5
It was a morning when I awoke with more the presence of forlorn than cheerfulness. Perhaps it's because the events of the day were benevolent, at best. It was a day where my child was made "to fit in" and yours, the onlookers. It's a day where I am surrounded by past, present and future. I dread it. All of the events, the children, the noise. Running here; waiting there. Seemingly chaos for me, but over all, ultimately precise. Every year is the same. Every meet holds true to form over the previous year. The children change and grow older; the teacher aides alternate; the weather varies; but the essence of "why we are there" never goes away. It is a fact that I am reminded of every morning and especially on this one.
Yet, here I am. Dressed to suit the occasion (T-shirt and all), camera in hand, a smile plastered on my face as I follow the bus to it's destination. I cringe at the little yellow bus. As we arrive and I search for my clan, my heart lifts a little as the atmosphere is charged with something I can't put my finger on.
My station found, I throw myself onto the ground. I sink down and think, "Great. Two events, spaced 1 hour and 25 minutes apart." I sit for a while and feel sorry for myself and everyone around me. But the parade starts and I feel my spirits lighten a little more as they sing the Star Spangled Banner. I smile as I hear it echo into the distance. I see Jordan, my Jordan, walking in the opening ceremonies and I feel a sense of pride I didn't think myself capable of. I take a picture,sure that by the time it's developed the picture will not hold the clarity of the moment. And I shrug off the wistful feeling that passes. And so the day goes by with much of the same pull and tug of my emotions. Only briefly do I wonder why I refuse to give in to the feelings I know are there.
Then, before I know it, the time has come for Jordan to "do her thing". I wish her luck, then leave her with some able-bodied, smiling aide as I find my way to the finish line. The gun shoots and all at once my body tightens, leaving my heart in my throat. I embrace all that I have ever come to know at precisely the moment that Jordan lunges into my arms, eyes on fire, heart racing as she laughs into my neck. Not once does she ask if she came in first. As teenagers surround her with congratulatory remarks, she feels the praise that I am not sure she comprehends. As for me? Well, I just stand back and clap with eyes on fire, heart racing as I watch her, not understanding how loving her was changing me.
Angie Touchet, 2001
Yet, here I am. Dressed to suit the occasion (T-shirt and all), camera in hand, a smile plastered on my face as I follow the bus to it's destination. I cringe at the little yellow bus. As we arrive and I search for my clan, my heart lifts a little as the atmosphere is charged with something I can't put my finger on.
My station found, I throw myself onto the ground. I sink down and think, "Great. Two events, spaced 1 hour and 25 minutes apart." I sit for a while and feel sorry for myself and everyone around me. But the parade starts and I feel my spirits lighten a little more as they sing the Star Spangled Banner. I smile as I hear it echo into the distance. I see Jordan, my Jordan, walking in the opening ceremonies and I feel a sense of pride I didn't think myself capable of. I take a picture,sure that by the time it's developed the picture will not hold the clarity of the moment. And I shrug off the wistful feeling that passes. And so the day goes by with much of the same pull and tug of my emotions. Only briefly do I wonder why I refuse to give in to the feelings I know are there.
Then, before I know it, the time has come for Jordan to "do her thing". I wish her luck, then leave her with some able-bodied, smiling aide as I find my way to the finish line. The gun shoots and all at once my body tightens, leaving my heart in my throat. I embrace all that I have ever come to know at precisely the moment that Jordan lunges into my arms, eyes on fire, heart racing as she laughs into my neck. Not once does she ask if she came in first. As teenagers surround her with congratulatory remarks, she feels the praise that I am not sure she comprehends. As for me? Well, I just stand back and clap with eyes on fire, heart racing as I watch her, not understanding how loving her was changing me.
Angie Touchet, 2001
