Pink and Sparkle
Photo by Sebastian Davenport-Handley on Unsplash
A few months into her freshman year of college, my youngest daughter excitedly expressed an interest to come home for her dad’s birthday dinner. The delight in her voice warmed my mother soul. My husband’s elation, too, grew as she called him to say she had a big surprise for him. We couldn’t wait as we wondered what she could be so eager about, and what could possibly be such fabulous news.Perhaps she was on track to make the Dean’s list. Perhaps she was involved with the student peacekeeping mission for the United Nations. Or maybe she was proud of a paper she wrote on nuclear fusion and how that would change the energy source for the world. The possibilities swirled in my mind as I prepared dinner, birthday cake, and table setting in the fanciest way possible.My husband, too, couldn’t wait. We had not seen our daughter in weeks, and my missing her suddenly bubbled up through my beating heart. I kept looking out the kitchen window not wanting to miss the old red Dodge appear from behind our neighbor’s vast evergreen tree. Seeing her pull in the driveway was one those maternal bankable moments, as it meant she was home.And then I saw her zip around the corner. I yelled for my husband and instantly heard his quickened footsteps as he joined me in the kitchen. Imagining our daughter walk through the garage door in the ordinary way she had done all her life now took on new meaning. We sensed bustle and suddenly the door opened. “Hi Mom and Dad”, we heard in her usual bright and cheerful voice.
As my eyes absorbed her entrance, my face suddenly became like a wax statue version of me. Stood before me was my natural blond beauty of a daughter with pink streaked hair and a nose ring. We stood frozen as she flicked her hair from side to side and turned her nose sparkle side forward. “What do you think?” She enthusiastically asked? Obviously her free spirit had been unleashed.
A million words streamed to the tip of my tongue. I stomped on my husband’s foot willing him to remain silent. I wanted to say, “What were you thinking?” Somehow the voice of a wiser mother hijacked my words of disapproval. Instead, I opened my arms to embrace this 19-year-old work in progress. “It brings out your eyes”, I hesitantly fibbed in response to her need for approval. As she bounced around the kitchen so happy, I realized how much delight she embodied. Her infectious presence filled our kitchen space again with youthful promise. Pink and sparkle, suddenly, were perfect.