It took me three days, but I finally finished watching Mama Mia! last night. It didn't take me so long because I didn't enjoy the movie (though I'm quite sure it was more fun on stage than on the screen), but because by the time I crawl into bed with hopes of relaxing with a movie I'm so doggone tired that I just can't keep my eyes opened. And I'm aware of how I'll feel in the morning if I try.
The one scene with Donna and Sophie before the wedding about killed me.
You know the one, where Sophie comes and asks her mom if she'll help her get ready for her big day, instead of having her friends with her.
And then the music starts. Time slipping through my fingers. The music montage that will slay any mother with a heart. The last moments they spend together as just mother and daughter, before the husband enters and her heart divides. Donna brushes her hair. Blow dries her hair. She sits her big grown up daughter on her lap and paints her toenails for her (that did me in!), they look at old photos. They curl up together. They laugh.
And all the while, the mother looks at her daughter, now a grown woman, marveling at how the time has gone by.
I was weeping. I couldn't stand it anymore. (heck, I'm weeping now, just reliving it!)
I crept into Lyndsay's room to hold her. My arms ached for her. Her room was dark, but her bed was empty. I tried to get my eyes adjusted, when I heard,
Down on the floor.
She was kneeling in prayer.
I knelt down beside her and wrapped my arms around her and said, "I just had to tell you how much I love you."
"Oh, Mommy, I love you too," she whispered back. And then she felt my shudder. The tears I was trying to hold at bay.
"Mommy? Are you okay?"
"I just don't want you to grow up," I sniffled. "I was watching this movie with a mother and daughter and the daughter is getting married and moving away and it just made me so sad."
"Oh, Mommy, I don't want to grow up either. I don't ever want to leave you. You're the best Mom I could ever have. I could never live without you."
"I wish you were still just a little girl," I said through my tears. "It's all happening so fast."
We just sat there in the dark, on her floor, holding each other, me crying.
It's not fair how fast the time slips through my fingers.
"It's funny," she whispered to me, her arms still wrapped around me, "I was just praying and telling Heavenly Father how thankful I am for you, and then you walked in."
How excited I am to watch your life unfold. How I struggle with the parts that will unfold without me as a witness. How I hope that my memory holds fast every second I've ever had with you.
How honored I am to be your mother.
How I wish time would slow down.