When the last door closes.

Last night was a night like any other. There was no sign. No warning.
We said ‘Goodnight’ and off she went, with the usual kiss and a hug.
My twelve year old baby, now as tall as myself.

I sat a while longer enjoying the peace, and a glass of wine.
Eventually I called it a day, and climbed the stairs.
And there it was, as I reached the landing…

The closed door.

I’m sure reading this you are not exactly upset.
perhaps puzzling as to what you missed.
What’s my problem, her bedroom door is closed?
Get over it.

However this was so much more than a closed door.
For twenty three years I have climbed my stairs.
and without fail I have entered my sleeping children’s bedrooms,small__8745759743
to whisper a silent goodnight.

When they were young babies I tiptoed in,
to gaze just once more on that tiny being.
To experience once more before I slept, that skip of my heart,
as I inhaled their baby smell and fell in love all over again.

There were nights I opened that door,
holding my breath to hear that they were breathing.
There were nights I opened that door many times,
to a screaming child refusing to sleep.

There were nights I opened that door,
to be met by a child lying wide awake.
Upset after a bad dream, or fretting with a childhood worry,
which a hug and a snuggle gladly given, seemed to cure.

The years have rolled by,
and one by one the doors have closed,
until there was just one left.
But one door open was better than none.

I suppose if I am honest I had seen it coming.
The bedroom toys were gone,
a good night story no longer wanted,
and the light outside the door switched off.

The owner of this door is maturing fast,
and leaving her childhood behind.photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/45688888@N08/5915484733/">"PictureYouth"</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/">cc</a>
She speaks, looks and acts like a teenager,
but to me, she will forever be my baby.

So perhaps now you can understand,
what that closed door meant to me.
Tonight as I climb the stairs and see that door,
a small part of me will mourn its passing.

However as that door closes a whole new world is opening up for my daughter,
an exciting world of independence and freedom,
A world of friends, makeup and boyfriends,
the world of a teenager.

Then out of the blue a thought strikes me,
and I feel ashamed of my sadness.
I think of Daniel and young Ben,
and the bedroom doors their parents face.

I get a grip,
and tearfully I give thanks,
that it was in fact she and not I who closed that door,
and that beyond it my child still sleeps.

photo credit: marioanima via photopin cc
photo credit: bitzcelt via photopin cc
photo credit: ohsohappytogether via photopin cc

46 thoughts on “When the last door closes.

    1. I’d love to be able to just peep in at night, but she is moving on faster than me!
      I have a bit to go before any of them will have a significant other over, and if their father has his way…never! ๐Ÿ™‚

  1. Awww ๐Ÿ˜ฆ the minute I read the line the bedroom door was closed, I understood. I’m dreading the day but will try count my blessings and think of it as an exciting time on their lives as they grow up.
    Time goes too fast xx

    1. Time does go too fast, most especially in hindsight, but as you say it is an exciting time in her life and lovely to be here to share it with her.
      You have quite a bit of time left with your babies, and probably many days when you wonder will it ever end. Enjoy. x

    1. It comes to us all I know, but at least they are still on the other side, with their whole lives ahead of them. Something to celebrate really.

    1. Thanks a million. I love when someone enjoys and ‘gets’ what I write. I thought of you today when I read a facebook photo saying something like ‘But mummy I will be marrying you’.

  2. A piece of wood (or whatever makes up the door) is simply part of our three dimensional worldview. The space between the hallway and room never changes and the love that permeates the door, both ways, will always cross through. A lovely piece. Thank you for sharing.

  3. I’m missing my babies while they are still babies lol! I know it happens way to fast and am trying to soak in every moment! Oh and I really don’t want to have teenagers lol just don’t get them!

  4. Oh my. I can so totally relate! My Mini Me is 12 and will be 13 in February and the closed door drives me crazy too, although there are times when I WANT her to close the door too! ๐Ÿ˜‰ However, it is the idea of the matter – our babies – closing their door – wanting privacy. It is a bittersweet moment for us all. We miss our babies and enjoy their innocence but at the same time are so incredibly proud of the young adults that they’ve come. Bittersweet indeed. Thanks so much for the post!

  5. Tric, this resonates so much but I’ve been surprised how the door keeps opening for happy, sad and no reason other than that he is son and I’m ‘mama’ or just Jean.

  6. it is a rite of passage that is a sign of things to come, as our children begin to find their way in the world. it is normal to feel sadness, for what was, and never will be the same again –

    1. Apologies, but hopefully you’ll be happy to know you have many years of open doors and noisy needy little ones ahead of you. ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. How late am I replying to you! My apologies, It slipped through. I remember being in your situation last year, and now that my two are getting ready to go back to college I have thought of you and wondered how you were getting on knowing that it’s all ahead of you.When does he leave? How far away will he be going?

      1. He’s gone ๐Ÿ˜ฆ He’ll be two hours away – not exactly the Himalaya, but it’s not home. He’s still in touch though, because magically Mum is the only one who knows how to do the stuff he doesn’t want to do himself.

        1. Oh very similar to my own two. They too are two hours away, but have another week before they leave me.
          I hope the leaving wasn’t too painful. I hope he enjoys his course.

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