Don't Lose Your Sparkle

Where once there were none, now there are two pre school age granddaughters in my life. I am lucky to live very close by and see them both on the regular. I have been privileged to watch them grow from infancy into one four year old and one almost four year old glimmer of magic.

I can appreciate them for hours, participating in their play or perhaps simply observing their play. I marvel at the way they move in the world, with a genuine spark that can’t be contained. They are real, they are authentic in every inch of the way, even as they pretend to be princesses, astronauts, mamas, kitty cats, and more. They show me daily that they are artists, gymnasts, daredevils, storytellers, scientists, with energy captured in limber and lively bodies.

And then there is another little four year old girl who watches with curiosity and delight:

She is somewhere in the shadows of time, looking, listening, wondering, watching those other little girls unfold. I can remember the day this photo was taken but I have a tough time finding her presence in me. She must be there but right now I can only see the part of me that the world saw then, the handful of photos that tell me my story. How cool it would be to know that little girl again.

She sees those other two little girls with their sparkles, their matching Keen kids’ sandals, their hair framing their soft and young faces. One of the little girls is dancing so delicately, softly tiptoeing to the music in her head and the other? The other is giggling wildly as she tries to catch a butterfly on the lawn. The four year old version of me is captivated by these two relatively new arrivals in her life.

The me of today takes care of these four year olds and feels what? Not really a sadness but something more complex. Maybe it’s a mix of awe and excitement, grief and gratitude. Awe for the delightful beauty and innocence of a four year old. Excitement and gratitude for the remarkable people who came into my life and who will come into these girls’ lives. And awe and grief for the unspoiled time stretched out in front of the little girls, the time I once had but am rapidly losing. Gratitude for all of it: for the messy and /or hard parts but also for the magical, exquisite, glorious, and unforgettable moments. Gratitude for the miracle that I (and they) even existed.

My mind watches these little girls play. If I could speak to the three of them, I would crouch down low, look into their trusting eyes, and say:

“Don’t lose your sparkle. You are perfect in every way just the way you are. Don’t shortchange yourself. Listen to yourself and others. Trust yourself. Show up for other people but also love yourself. Be you and not some pretend version designed to please the world. Laugh often. Don’t take it all so seriously. Don’t lose the four year old in you. Stay curious always.”

Part of me wants to deliver a warning to them but I wouldn’t. Four-year-olds aren’t built for warnings. They’re built for living. Too many cautions can steal the joy. So maybe I'd just whisper something simpler:

"You are allowed to feel everything. Even the big things."

I’ve had the delightful opportunity to walk with these two small children for four years now. I’ve giggled with them, I’ve created so much art with them, I’ve held them and read to them. But I’ve also forgotten that I was a four year old once. They say you always carry your younger self with you. That might be true but I generally can’t find my four year old self. Maybe she’s always been there and I buried her under all the responsibility that life gave me. I didn’t even know she was still breathing. Maybe these two newly arrived four year olds are giving me the chance to welcome back the little kid in me. How exactly do I do that? All ideas are welcome here.