Scars

Swing Sets and the Sams

Swing Sets and the Sams

This is never how I imagined myself at seventeen, but then again, neither did anyone else. I was supposed to be free for at least a couple more years, go to parties, live, but I was stuck at home feeding my kid.

Once I had Ren, friends slowly stopped calling, boys slowly stopped texting, grades slowly started slipping, and my life away from her was quickly crashing. But what sucked most about it all was that she had to be forever without a father. I was sure that once they released him, he was not going to come stepping in as her father. Even if he did, I wouldn't allow him in a three mile radius of this city.

Ren and I were in this together, and through all the judgmental stares from adults and the whispers floating around the school hallways, Ren would always be a safe place for me, her smile brightening even my worst days. But today her smile was unusually wide.

Today was June 6th, Ren's third birthday. Although she had no clue what day it was, when I pulled her from her crib in the morning, she was bright eyed, grinning from ear to ear. I tried to set her on the ground to play while I got ready, but she just stood there on her stubby legs, arms and her lower lip extended. I gave in and held her on my hip and took her to the bathroom with me so I could fix my makeup.

When I set her on the sink, she decided that since she was in arm's reach of some of my things, she could play with them. So, as I tried to put mascara on my thick eyelashes, I had to watch her from the corner of my eyes and constantly pluck bottles and brushes from her tiny fingers. But when I had taken the pallet of pink blush from her is when she started crying. I reluctantly handed it back to her, but she still wasn't satisfied as she tried to figure out how to open it.

I smiled as I watched her and I helped her open it. She automatically reached for a brush, seeing me do so hundreds of times, and started to attempt to transfer it from the pallet to her face. I assisted her, helping her hold it steady so she wouldn't drop it, and when Ren was finally satisfied with her work, she gave put the two things back on the sink and requested to be held.

I carried Ren back to my room where I pulled her yellow dress with small white daisies covering it from my closet and put her in it. The small dress had been mine when I was her age and I smiled when I saw her giggle and jump around in it.

Ren insisted on leading the way down the stairs, but I was deathly afraid of that, so we came to the agreement that I could hold her hand while she walked down the stairs. She clung to my fingers and the banister as her little feet managed the large steps, but after a couple minutes we had finally reached the bottom and she was jumping up and down, excited. She then ran (well, running for a three year old) to the kitchen to tell my mom.

"Nana, Nana!" She screeched when she found my mother pouring coffee in the kitchen. Her face lit up when she saw the dress and her arms automatically extended to Ren to receive Ren's hug.

I started to fix Ren her favorite cereal as she rambled on to my mother something about stairs and fun mornings. My mom ate every word of it up. But as much fun as they were having, I had to cut it short to get Ren to eat.

I was almost anxious for today because Ren and I, for the first time in forever, had the day to ourselves. But Ren was in no hurry to go anywhere as she ate her lucky charms at the slowest rate possible. I sat there watching her though, sipping the scalding hot coffee I held in my hands.

When she finally decided she had had enough lucky charms for one morning, she shoved her bowl towards me, spilling what was left onto the table, so I had to take another couple minutes to entirely clean it all up, but even that could not make me angry at Ren sitting so innocently in the chair. I guess that was the part that came with my newfound motherhood: patience. I only rarely got angry at Ren. But then again, maybe I just wasn't used to being superior over anyone yet. I like to think I'm starting to finally adapt, though, finally after three years.