My LOVE is Forever (Book 4-1st Alternate Ending)

Part 71

This particular summer day is partly cloudy with a glorious breeze and I'm on my knees trying to contain a grouping of daylilies. Movement catches my eye and I look up from my work to see my now five-year-old pirouette past me on the way to her 'playhouse'. Where is the time going? I ask myself as I study her.

"Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom," she giggles in a bubbly sing song as she leaps gracefully from stepping stone to stepping stone.

"Bye," I laugh as I watch her open the door and disappear inside. I return to the task at hand, but not for long, when I notice that she has left the door ajar. Sure, let's let all the a/c out, I think.

"Anastasia!" I call, watching for her to appear in the open doorway. When she doesn't, I pull myself from the ground and dust off the knees of my jeans.

"Anastasia!" I call a little firmer, again, there's no response. I start to mumble aloud as any mother would, making my way down the stone path toward the open door of the playhouse. "I swear to God, a one track mind just like her father..." I grumble as I pull off my garden gloves.

My words and feet come to an abrupt halt when I hear the distinctive tinkling notes of the piano through the open door. I smile and mouth the words thank you toward the sky before continuing quietly into the building.

Anastasia is standing between the bench and the piano, her long fingers splayed over the keys, my heart flutters. She looks so much like Prince, is my first thought when I spot her. And, just as Prince had always sensed me near, she turns her head and smiles at me, "Hi, Mom." Her hands drop to her sides and she moves to stand beside the piano instead.

Since this is the first time I've witnessed her attempting to play, I act nonchalant. "You left the door open, Sweetie," I wink at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she looks guilty.

"It's okay, Baby, I'll get it," I turn to take hold of the doorknob, then pause, "You going to dance for awhile?" She nods happily, already skipping across to exit the music room. "Have fun," I say, smiling in her direction before I pull the door closed behind me. Outside the closed door, I let my eyes close, oh, please let her continue to show interest in the piano, my plea is a silent one, because I will not push Anastasia to do anything. As much as her personality favors Prince's, it also favors mine. Pushing her will only cause her revolt, so I have to let her make up her mind if she wants to pursue the piano.

I think back to when her dancing instructor was trying to persuade Anastasia to consider performing in an upcoming dance competition, she wanted no part of it. The more the instructor pushed, the more irritated we both became. "Maybe we'll just watch the competition this time, let her get a feel for it," I suggested as a compromise. She relinquished her pursuit of Anastasia performing, but gifted us tickets to the competition instead. Anastasia sat in silence as the other children performed their routines, and I'm quite sure she critiqued their every move. Only once all the trophies were announced or each category, and we left the auditorium, did she speak. "Mom, can I put my trophies in my bedroom?" All I could do was smile down at her as we walked hand and hand to the car. "Of course you can," because I knew my child had made her decision to join in the next round of competitions.

Now, at five years old, and two first place trophies on display in her bedroom, her interests seem to be broadening more into the music realm. Between homeschooling, dance classes and competitions, she is also doing surprisingly well with her drum lessons. I was worried that she may have too much on her plate for such a young age, but this awakening interest in the piano proves otherwise. Anastasia seems to be an all-consuming sponge when it comes to learning anything, plus she emits maturity far beyond her years.

Six months ago, Angel had agreed to watch her for me one day when I went for my annual physical. When I returned to pick her up, I asked the usual question any mother asks. "Was she any trouble?"

Angel, who still has no filter, replied in a hushed voice, "You're child is weird!" When I laugh and nod in agreement, she quickly does her best at damage control. "I mean, she doesn't act like a kid! She's more like an adult!"

I laugh again, "Oh, I know it! You remember whose child she is, right?"

"Yeah," she laughs and rolls her eyes, "thank God she isn't that difficult."

I look at her seriously, "Ah, but she is, trust me. I don't feel like I'm raising a child, sometimes I feel like she's schooling me on how to be a parent. She has always acted twice her age."

This last part is especially true, her focus and discipline is that of child much older than her age. At five years old, we have easily advanced into the first and second grade level criteria for homeschooling, and Anastasia hasn't faltered a bit, she actually craves the knowledge. I often wonder if I'm going to be able to keep up with her academically.

An hour later, as I'm sitting on the back porch enjoying a glass of ice water, Anastasia appears from her playhouse. She comes over to me and crawls onto my lap quietly, wheels are turning in her mind.

I kiss her temple, "Did you have fun?"

She nods before she turns those big hazel eyes on me, "May I take piano lessons, too?"

Looking into those eyes and seeing Prince is always difficult for me, but I do my best to blink back the tears that are trying to form. "You sure can," I say, smoothing some wayward curls from her temple as to distract myself.

She grins at me, "May I watch t.v.?" When I nod, she scoots off my lap and runs to the back door, leaving it open as she passes through.

I roll my eyes and start to stand up to close the door when Anastasia reappears. "Oops," she giggles and closes the door softly. So grown up, but still a child.