Xenia

Xenia had a birthday, and fifteen looks good on her!  She stands at five feet three inches and weighs in at one hundred pounds of pure muscle.  Xenia is taking driving classes and should have her permit by the end of the month.  The same weekend she started traffic safety, she competed in her first gymnastics meet.  I loved standing for the national anthem and watching the beauty, grace, and strength of all the athletes.  In the two hours we were there, sixty-five young women ran through the gauntlet of all four events.  Against other girls in her age group in level XLSilver, Xenia won first place on vault, floor, and bars.  She was second on beam and first place overall.  I couldn’t be more proud of her!  In addition to gymnastics practice, Xenia has orthodontist appointments for her new braces, and she has begun treatment for her walnut allergy.

With all that she has going on, Xenia decided in December to put her piano and voice lessons on hold.  As we were driving home from her last lesson, my mind wandered from dinner to a random thirty-year-old memory of lying on a blanket and kissing my ex college boyfriend after watching the fireworks at Fort Vancouver on the 4th of July.  An old man with a flashlight came by and kicked us out of the park.  Most of my memories of kissing Carl are fun, but that one came with shame.  As Xenia and I made the turn past the little cemetery and down the hill into the river valley where we live, my body felt the disgrace that my younger self had fought against when I told the security guard to go away.  The old man’s disapproval gripped my heart.  He had stood there shining his flashlight at us until we stood up and left with the dispersing crowd.

I hung my head down and said, “Syra, Syra, Syra.”

Xenia turned to me and asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Just a bad memory of something I’m ashamed of.”

“Does anyone else know about it?”

My mind skipped over Carl, who definitely wouldn’t feel any shame over kisses in the dark, and went to the man.  I said, “Well, there was an old guy.  It was a long time ago though, and he’s probably dead.”

Xenia brushed her hands and declared, “Yeah, he’s dead. I took care of him.”

I laughed so hard.  My secret was safe.  What was there to fear?

A moment passed before Xenia looked over again and asked, “Is your anxiety gone?”

My body was relaxed, and I felt warm and calm after shaking with laughter.  I said, “Yes. Yes, it is.  Thank-you.”

She sat back, proud of herself for a job well done.

Though we don’t have the back-and-forth to music lessons anymore, I still have time in the car with Xenia on Wednesdays and Fridays for gymnastics.  She’s looking forward to her two and a half hours of practice on the way there, which puts her in a good mood, and is so happy when I pick her up and listen to the latest skill she practiced well or is determined to master soon.   

Last Wednesday on the way to gymnastics, Xenia complained about getting a scam text with a job offer for people over the age of twenty-five.  Her phone blew up with text after text, which was totally annoying.  She had been deleting texts like that one, but this time she took matters into her own hands.

Xenia said, “I took each number from the group text and sent them an annoying message like, ‘I buried the body, now when are you going to pay me?’”

I had to laugh, but I said, “Xenia, what if the other numbers on the group text were victims like you?”

She considered that for a moment and decided, “That could be true, but it’s still funny.”

Other messages she sent:

The cows got out.

You have to pick up the kids from Arizona.

Is this Shirley from the bar?

The kid is yours.  You have to pay child support.

The baby was born safely.

Mom, when are you coming home?  The cat is dead.

Cockroaches can live a while without their head, humans can’t.

Are you part of the king’s guard?

When I was a kid, prank calls involved breathing hard and hanging up.  Prank texting can be downright creative.  So far, she has only gotten one response.  One texter assured her that he/she isn’t Shirley from the bar.  I told Xenia she should stop it.

Xenia is excited to start driving and be able to take herself to gymnastics and to school, but when else am I going to get this time with her?  Here’s another great story from our drive to school on our first week back from Christmas break.

Xenia told me that she relates more to Gen Z instead of Gen Alpha because they value experiences over material things.  She told me all the places in Europe and Russia that she wants to visit and began planning an imaginary trip for the both of us to take someday.

She said, “We should go to all the places in England where Pride and Prejudice was filmed.  We could go to the huge house, and Dad could jump into the lake for you!”  She looked over and waggled her eyebrows at me.”

I can’t imagine a scenario where Mike would willingly jump in a lake, but my imagination brought me visions of a Pemberley tour with arrows pointing down one path for Mike to take to the lake and another path for me with a good view and a bench to swoon on.  The thought of me swooning at Mike looking like Mr. Darcy with a white shirt and wet hair made me smile, and knowing that Xenia thinks that would make me happy brought me even more joy.

I love Xenia so much and plan to enjoy every moment I have with her in the next few years.  Sometimes she thinks that I’m old and decrepit, but I encourage that idea.  She gives me more compassion than blame these days, and she wants to bring me on her European tour.  What more can I ask of my beautiful teenage daughter who has the world opening up before her?

Photoshop work on the following picture was done by Sophia.