The evening before Miss P’s First Communion, I sat and watched her brush her hair before bed. I wondered to myself would she remember this time of her life thirty years later. Now that she is a young girl, many of her experiences are ones that I remember of myself as a child. I remember my First Communion. I remember walking across the street in line towards the church. I remember talking to myself not to put my hands down and keep them together palms balanced and firm. I remember eating jelly doughnuts. I remember my dress and the flowers in my hair. What would Miss P remember of her special day?
I hope she remembers what a beautiful Saturday it was in May. There was not a single cloud in the sky. It was warm and you could smell the blossoms in the air and freshly cut grass. (The black hair tie was not an accessory. It was taken off in the car!)
I hope she remembers how pretty the organ sounded in the church and the echos of the congregation singing in honor of her special day.
I hope she remembers her sister shouting her name as she read her reading. It is the only name Miss F says with clarity!
I hope she remembers the message in her readings. I hope she remembers how proud we were of her as she read with ease and meaning.
I hope she remembers how her brother kept it together for that entire mass and was so proud of himself. ( I am not ashamed to admit I bribed him with a brand new toy that was waiting for him in the car if he kept his sanity. If he kept his sanity, I kept mine. I have to do what I have to do. Don’t hate me.)
I hope she remembers how much we all love her and how proud of her we all feel.
I hope she remembers that delicious cake, even if it wasn’t ice cream cake.
And I hope she remembers playing kick ball with a soccer ball and paper plates for bases. Knowing my girl, I know that she will.