when you die

Today the ballerina princess asked me a very serious question. She was a bit agitated, and almost teary when she asked me, "Mommy, I don't know how to fix my hair. I am not good at it. What will I do when I am grown up, and I can't find your house, how will I fix my hair?" I promised to always make sure she knew where my house was. And I told her if she still needed my help when she was a grown up, (though I doubted it), I would come to her house and help her.

My answer didn't seem to satisfy her. She was still bothered by something, and couldn't quite seem to get her brain around it. "OK, she said, but what if I can't find you? What if you are really old and you die?" then gasp, "What if you die when I am little? Then what would I do?"

My heart caught in my throat, because I couldn't answer her question. I am still trying to figure out the answer for myself. She wanted a promise, and I couldn't deliver. What IF I died when she was little? What WOULD she do? So I gave her the answer, I wish I'd had: "Honey," I told her, "If I die, before you know how to fix your hair, there are so many ladies that love you and will help you learn to fix your hair and put on blush and all that stuff. You just call them on the phone - Moira, Heidi, Grandma, Christina, Ms. Sharon, Rachel - they will all help you if you need it. You just need to ask them - promise me you would ask for help if you need it."

Then her dad pipes in, "I could fix it for you." The look on her face was priceless as she secretly glanced at me with a wide-eyed grimmace and shook her head."

She got a little teary when she whispered, "OK, but I really want you to be the one who fixes my hair." This moment - the one where I see my very own six year-old self through my mother's eyes - is surreal. I want her to stay. I want her to teach me every girly thing she knows - I don't want to read it in Seventeen Magazine, or pick it up stealing glances at ladies in church, or overhearing my friend's mothers talking to them. I want HER! I want MY MOTHER! I look at the ballerina, she is wanting the same thing - she is begging me for it, she needs it, she deserves it. But I cannot guarantee it.

So I tell her that if she ever needs anything I will be the first one there - always. And that is true, no matter where I might be.