Rose used to be a chatterbox. She would speak for long periods of time on any subject that was on her mind, and she would speak so quickly that it was very tough to get a word in edgewise. Basically, your job was to just nod and interject an, "Oh, really?" from time to time. But as she has approached the teenage years, that communication flow has slowed from a roaring rapid to a slow trickle. Most days she won't speak to me at all. I just get a head nod or eye roll. And if talking is absolutely unavoidable, she'll throw an unintelligible grunt in my general direction. I've become an expert in interpreting grunts. If there was an exam to test fluency in grunting, I would knock it out of the park. I've seen her talking animatedly to friends, so obviously it's not that she doesn't want to talk; she just doesn't want to talk to mom. I won't deny that it's worried me a little. I used to think quiet would be a blessed relief after Sabrina's constant histrionics, but I was wrong. At least with Sabrina I know everything since her life motto is, "No thought left unsaid!" It can be wearying, but I know exactly where I stand and what's going on. Rose is a mystery.
Then, the other night I was curled up in a chair in the corner of our family room reading a book. David and Rose came and sat down at the dining room table while David helped her with her math homework. They worked on algebra for 30 minutes or so, and then the conversation opened up. Rose started asking David questions. They talked about school, grades, when to starting thinking about college, boys, soccer, and the best way to write the letter "G". I stayed absolutely still, trying to make myself invisible. It was such a wonder to hear her open up and talk, I didn't want to ruin it. I just sat there and listened with a smile in my heart, thanking God for my husband.
