Nine

When my girls turned seven, I saw two small girls who still stayed close to my side, whose world was still unclouded and who still preferred my company to most others.

When my girls turned eight, I knew they were moving more towards independence, and I delighted in seeing their personalities blossom.

Now that my girls are nine, it’s been poignant and amazing to see them taking more and more steps away from us. No longer do they rush to hug me when I come home from a long day, and rarely do they knock me off my feet with exuberant affection. They can stay at home alone for a little while now, and they know how to use a cellphone and check their email accounts. They can use the microwave to heat up their own dinner, and they can make their own lunches. They can swing a bat and throw a softball.

Some of the constants still endure; Sophie is still musical and comic and animal-loving, while Lucy is still conscientious and artistic with a dry edge to her humor. Sophie is still more of a cuddler, while Lucy is less physically affectionate, but makes beautiful cards for friends and family. I know we still have a close relationship, though it’s evolved into bedtime “private talks” and discussions about adult topics where I don’t always have the answers; this week, for example, I had to try explaining affirmative action and the existence of historically black universities. I am so proud of them, and can’t wait to spend the weekend in New York together, celebrating what wonderful girls they are.

But, oh they are growing! Since they were born, I’ve jokingly referred to them as my sidekicks, my tagalong twins who keep me company every day. But suddenly the day when they will move into their own worlds, heroines of their own tales of wonder and adventure, seems very, very close.