only a witness

Sophie had her first gymnastics meet of the season yesterday.

I couldn't be there.  My dear friend was getting married at exactly the same time.

At 2:13 p.m. I was driving up the canyon into Park City on my way to the wedding.

My hair pinned up all tight and swirly like a 1940's poster.

"Hey, that looks life Jeff's car...IT IS!  It is!  Andrew get closer!"

It was Sophie and her dad on their way to the meet.

I thrust my whole torso out of the window and into the wind.

My arms S.O.S. flailing, and I was shouting, even though she would never hear me.

I just had to let her know I was there in some way.

Her tiny palm waved back just as they went up the ramp to the exit.

She saw me.

I hope it made her laugh. 

I hope the laughing helped.

 Gymnastics is tense.  The hair is tight.  The leotards suction onto tiny bodies.  Each move is precise, and point your toes.  Always point your toes.  Deductions from scores are measured in tiny increments, and everything counts.  I sometimes wonder why I put my child under this microscope.  Then I remember, I didn't put her here.  She put herself right where she wants to be.
She shows up at gymnastics 3 X's @ week and works at it from 4-8 pm.  4 hours.  She never complains.
Her muscles are beginning to show their efforts.  I see her poise shine through when she talks to adults with a polished smile and awareness.
Sometimes I just want her to be wild, but that comes naturally.  There is no shortage of spunky savage in my daughter.  But to see it reigned in scares me.

I called to see how it went.  Jeff said she placed lower than she wanted to.
"She was crying."
I am protective.  I should have been there.  I should have been there to tell her it doesn't matter.  She is exceptional, and other people's scores are arbitrary, limited, and inaccurate.  I know all of her, and she deserves nothing less than maximum appreciation.  I have tears in my eyes now as I write this.  I know I can't shield her.  I know it will be years before she unlearns these measurements, these categories.  I am still unlearning them myself.  And I can't get in her way.
There will always be an illusion to uncover.  If she were 1st place, she would have to unlearn that too.
Mine will be only one voice in the cacophony of a massive world song.
There will be long stretches where she can't hear it at all.

Sometimes I wish she were a dancer.  At least then there would be good music, and I imagine more freedom.  Funny, Sarah...
I cannot choose her path.  I have always known she would ferociously find her own.  Now that she is doing it, I am in awe of her.  Just as I felt watching her first moments of life.  I am only a witness.  My role is vital and small at the same time.

Sophie and her team-mates.

wit-ness

n.
a. One who can give a firsthand account of something seen, heard or experienced:  a witness to the accident.

b.One who is called on to be present at a transaction in order to attest to what takes place.

wit-nessed, wit-nessi-ng, wit-ness-es

v.
a.To be present at or have personal knowledge of.

b.To take note of; observe.