Written by Michelle
Her big brown eyes found mine.
Her eyelashes were low, and her look confirmed that she was somewhat defeated. She connected intently to my actions. Her tone was terse, but her demeanor was sweet.
Focus on me!
Her words reached me, so did her actions.
Short. Focused. Not Needy. Intense.
And like everything that characterizes my six-year old daughter, right to the point.
As she said those words, her fingers lifted my chin, so that our eyes had no other choice but to lock instantly. My eyes, which had been glued to a small screen, as I furiously typed away at my iPhone, had been lifted. Her words stopped my thumbs and were a blow to my heart.
Focus on me.
As she spoke, she tilted her head to the side and looked.
I recognized that look: the same one I gave her when I knew the answer to a question before I asked it, the one I used to admonish her and her sibling’s behavior when they were out of line.
Now, she more than looked…she stared!
At me. At us. At the relationship I had with my phone.
As she sweetly, but sternly held up my chin so that our eyes were in line, she removed the phone with the other hand. She placed it on the table and turned it face down. The intruder, a good two feet away from us, now.
What felt like minutes, hours maybe, amounted to no more than a few seconds of those big brown eyes. Her gaze spoke to me and within the deep hues of that alarming coffee color, I lost it.
I was 6, and she was 37. With tears welling in my eyes, I was stricken, mortified and moved all at the same time. I was being dutifully reprimanded by a child. My own child. Sweet and stern, strong and respectful. She didn’t require explanations or excuses. All she wanted was me, my undivided attention and time.
I held her, opened up our daily reading assignment and began our task at hand. She snuggled into my embrace. I crumbled inside.
Her gaze remains stuck in my memory and produces an ill feeling every time my phone goes off in her sight. I’m terribly embarrassed and ridiculously ashamed.
In a world running at such high speeds, I’m waving a white flag. I simply can’t catch up.
I can live being known as the woman who did not reply to a message on time. But I can’t risk being the woman who isn’t there when she needs me.
iGive and iWill do anything and everything for those big brown eyes.