Glitter
It’s a plain fact that my house is full of glitter, rhinestones, and sequins. I have four girls who are very attracted to them. How can a little girl, (as well as a big girl) resist something so sparkly and reflective. They all fell in love with glitter in the same way they all loved pink and purple when they were five and six years old. Any dress purchased for them was more special with glitter, sequins, and “fake diamonds” that they once thought no different than real.
For years, I have been vacuuming and finding glittery reminders of my daughters’ presence throughout the house. It escapes their clothing as rain escapes the cloud that can no longer hold on. It is everywhere. Glitter in between the couch cushions after the whole family being cuddled up on the couch watching movies, glitter brushed off onto my bed after a goodnight kiss, rhinestones swept under the fridge by the girl learning to sweep, sequins that have fallen off in the dryer, even glitter in the tub or on the bathroom floor.
My newest shipment arrived today…in the form of clothing I bought for my oldest daughter. Neither of us really knew the quantity of glitter this shirt would actually have on it. It sheds, like a dog. (Nevermind my daughter’s reaction when I suggested she brush it off outside to get some of the “extra glitter off” – if looks could kill…)
It got me thinking…and reminded me of something my neighbors said to me some years ago. I was talking to them about our dog, who sheds. They were telling me how they once had a loyal, faithful dog whom they enjoyed having around so much. But unfortunately, the dog got older and older, and finally succumbed to sickness after reaching the much accelerated dog lifespan of fifteen human years. The funny thing, they said, was that once in a while, they still find dog hair in their home – which gives them an opportunity to remember their pooch fondly.
I have a pretty good feeling that I might find an old rhinestone, specks of pink glitter, or a fancy sequin in my house behind the bookshelf twenty years from now after the girls have moved on with their lives and gone. I don’t think I will just toss it to the side, or into the garbage can. Rather, I will have to sit with it for a moment, holding it in my hand, as my life flashes before me, remembering; pondering, the precious years I ‘ve been given with my girls.
