Andi and I became friends in the fifth grade, at age 11. At that time Andi had the summer job of watching her baby sister, Lexi, who was closing in on 3. We weren’t the nicest of babysitters, and I remember sometimes we would lock Lexi out of Andi’s room so we could paint in peace.
Sometimes I would go over to Andi’s house, tap on the window, and Andi would hand me a bag of dress ups from her mother’s closet. I would dress in the carport, and show up at the door, disguised as a new nanny, so that surely Lexi would have to behave. She’d look at me skeptically, but to in awe of the real possibility to step out of line . . . at least for a half hour or so.
And when we were teenagers, and Lexi was a young child, she would follow after us as we explored the sand dunes and red cliffs of the back country on vacations.
When we went away to college, Lexi, in the throws of her own childhood, tagged along on every Christmas break, and summer camp out.
After that is where I draw a blank. I heard stories, I was filled in on the happenings of her life. I was thrilled when she earned the prestigious opportunity to work in Washington DC as a Page one summer in high school. I heard about the dramas of love life, and the excitement of college applications, and eventually of her departure into the adult world as she moved across the country to attend a historical private school outside of Washington.
I met her college boyfriend. I read about her adventures on her own blog as she started law school, and new jobs and moved along the East Coast.
And this weekend I went to her wedding.
And as I was taking pictures of the lovely bride, and helping her and her family get ready for the big day, I couldn’t help but think about Olivia. I mean, I knew Lexi when she was smaller than Everett. I remember her whole life practically, and I see how fast it has gone. And now she is married . . .
And soon enough that will be Olivia.
The great tragedy of motherhood is that they grow up too quickly.