When She Buys You a Fountain Pen

It’s been an emotional week to say the least.

Tuesday I dropped Zoë and Eliya off for their first days of school this year (Gr 2 & 4FI) and although I will admit to being a wee bit nervous I didn’t expect to have a mini internal meltdown after dropping off my oldest. Contrast  Eliya who had whispered adamantly to us numerous times onto the school grounds “I’m ok, you can go. I’m ok you can go!” with Zoë, for the 3rd year running moved out of the class with her closest friends into a class to fend for herself.  All of the confidence and assurance of the night before sucked from her face and was replaced by a brave resolve.

Now I can imagine several reasons as to why this must have come about but UNFAIR was all that was coming to this mother’s mind.  This kid, is amazing, rally’s around all the time, feels unseen so often, cares for her younger siblings, stays late and long, shares her parents with a multitude of others and has the kindest heart, always watching for others and here she was, maybe even because of some of these things, expected to do it all again, because she can.  When I bent down to give her a hug before I left her to fend for herself I whispered “If you want me to try to fix this hun, I’ll try.” To which she replied “Give me the day to see Mom.” and put on the most courageous face- which of course weighed a 1000 pounds on my chest all day.

Wednesday rang up early getting Nathaniel off to Kindergarten.  Now if I’m honest K Orientation was a bit of a nightmare experience for the two of us.  Although we have worked long and hard all summer “getting excited for school” I don’t think I even realized how much stress I was feeling wondering if I was going to have to peel my little man off my leg and lock him in the school wailing for me or hang out with him in the playground tire all day (again).  On the drive in he said to me “Mama, I was thinking, what if Zoë & Eliya go to school and Violet & me stay home and take care of  you?”  He kills me.  But he decided instead he’d get his new teacher a coffee and when she came out of the building he marched it right up to her and stood in line entering the school like a champ. Minutes later ‘pan in’ and find me sitting in the van tears rolling down my cheeks. So much emotion. so much parenting insecurity. Violet squeals from her carseat in the back “Mama! Let’s go shopping!”  The moment wasn’t lost on her.

Let’s add in a touch of “man cold” in the household, and by this I mean each one of us is suffering pathetically, and Friday came none too soon.  Zoë had asked me for a Mommy/Daughter date and we knew she had a gift card for an amazing craft store in town so we headed off there for at least an hour of perusing.  While they were totaling up Zoë’s purchases I had been chatting with the clerk about the “fountain pen that just ruins you” displayed on the front counter to which she had replied “tell your husband!…maybe for Christmas, maybe your birthday”.  Zoë returned a few items and the clerk began ringing the rest in.

Zoë slipped a pen on to the counter.

“For you.” she looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes that see the world and the souls in it.

“Oh no sweetheart, you don’t need to spend your money on me!”

“For you.”she repeats emphatically.

“What is it?” I ask wondering what she’s found.

“A fountain pen.”

The clerk interjects, “that’s not the one she….”

And I interrupt her, she’s missing it, my daughter is buying me a fountain pen.  It is a disposable one, not the glorious one displayed on the counter for everyone to ogle but one she has put her little treasures back for so that I can have it– and my heart is going to burst. I choke back more emotion then can be healthy to keep at bay and say thank you as she skips out of the store, her warm little hand in mine.

What do you do when she buys you a fountain pen?  When as woman, a wife and especially a mother you often feel unseen, you struggle to maintain and discover your identity and then your 8 year old daughter catches a glimpse of you- you the person. You the lover of paper, journals, words and fountain pens.  I suppose you stop and breathe the moment in deeply, let it permanently tattoo itself on your bursting heart and relish that she even wants to spend time with you, let alone might even love you for who you are.