Its’ seven o’clock and I just got home from work. I’m tired and I’m still fighting this head cold thingy but my first thought on getting in the car and heading towards home was: ‘I wonder how school went?’ This morning when I was in the shower and bitching to myself about having to go into work when I’m sick and exhausted I thought: ‘The girls have to go to school today, suck it up.’
I have never been a celebrity stalker type. I don’t read the mags and I’m usually the last person to know who got married/divorced/knocked up, etc. Part of this is because at one time I thought I’d end up being a celebrity and that whole ‘do unto others’ thing stuck with me and part of it is because I really couldn’t care less. As talented or beautiful or whatever as they may be they aren’t my family or friends and their lives have no bearing on mine. I also cannot see in any way how this is news. I believe that privacy is an absolute right and that most people’s personal lives are not as interesting as whatever I’m thinking about at the moment. My personal taste and arrogance has thus far kept most famous people safe from my prying eyes.
But I’d like to know how Sasha and Malia’s first day back at school was. I’m one of those people who would have crashed the J Crew website if I had a young girl to buy clothes for because those outfits were just too cute. I could totally rock pink and orange by the way – even if I am no longer an adorable seven year old.
for anything or ask for anything more than a puppy, and certainly not all of this attention? I see some of myself in them, of course. I was precocious and my parents (especially my father) delighted in my wit. I was also usually the one who got to take him down a peg with some joke, or by being bored by some speech he was giving (though never on the national stage). I also remember my parents looking at each other like that when I was little and dancing like that.
They’re also like the children I hope to have.
Maybe that is what it is. For all of his talk of hope, and faith and confidence there is no physical symbol for that. Maybe when I look at them I see a reason to hope, because a world that made these two darlings surely can make itself worthy of them. I see a reason to have faith, for aren’t children the perfect proof that there is a God? And I see a reason for confidence – we have to do it, so we will, they are looking to their father, and all of us.
I don’t have a child of my own to see these things in, or wish things for and I catch only fleeting glimpses inside myself of the child that I was. I look at those girls and see all these things in an electric blue coat. It is too much to ask them to ever live up to. It is too much for any child to have to stand for and yet it is what they all do.
And so I must confess that I really want to know how school went today and I hope there was something warm and sweet waiting when they got home, because it was cold out there.