Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the Charmed characters, quotes, or overt references that may appear in my stories. They are the sole property of Spelling Television. I write for my own satisfaction and for the enjoyment of those who choose to read them.



Slipping Through My Fingers ~ This story stands alone


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Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
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I stand at the window watching the little girl laden with school books, lunch box, and an absent minded smile begin her trek to Baker Elementary School. I let my hand rest upon the beveled glass- its coolness ceasing the tremble in my hand. Bravely I waved good bye. Feelings stirred within me; reminding me that when my baby girl returned, she would not longer be a child, I was loosing her. The realization came, sudden and totally unexpected. The involuntary gasp, echoed my reality. Fingers veiling my heart, providing the truth, she was, slipping through my fingers…

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Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
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Like the trickling of sand through the fingers of time, I futilely try to grabbed for every second. The moments were hard to come by. Days were filled with work, work and more work. Sometimes the only time I gain with her child is in the wee hours of the morning. The sleeping child bathed in moonbeams and pixie dust. The stars paling as the deep brown eyes twinkle at the realization I am in her room; only to soon be shadowed by the heaviness of sleep- the gentle smile, never leaving the beautiful face of innocence.

Sitting up til the sun relieved the moon of his duties, sprinkling the room with a myriad of hues. I run my hand over the downy head and whisper, “ What goes on in that little head of yours? Sometimes I know you so well your words are unnecessary, others your thoughts are hidden, buried deep within your secret place that, not even I can reach. Do you miss me, when I don’t see you for days, and only have time for a quick kiss and a short bedtime story? You never complain sweet girl, but what, oh, what is it that you think on until your eyes give way to sleep? Pheebs, my big, little girl. You have had to grow up so fast. Your youthful innocence has been reshaped by hardship and loss. Your age belies the wisdom both learned and observed. You amaze me sometime with your level-headedness that I lacked at the same age, but at what price? Slipping through my fingers...”

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Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know
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I hear the hall clock chime the sixth hour. Once again, I’ve stayed up all night on a pointless mission to answer, unanswerable questions. Today’s schedule is packed. An early meeting with the magazine’s editors leaves me no time for the cuddle I so much want to give or the conversation I wish to share. Rousing the sleeping beauty, I rush her through the morning activities.

While preparing a quick breakfast, we say little to on another. As I hands the little girl her bowl of cereal, I pause- what was the look in Phoebe’s eyes? What is hope? Maybe expectancy. The gaze is fleeting- as she offers me a sad smile and then begins to scarf down the multi-colored rings, floating in their sea of white.

GUILT!! Slices open my heart that has been beating to such a frenzied tempo. Memories flood my mind as I recalled all the plans I had promised the baby of the family, the one left in my care, to raise as my own. BROKEN!! Trips to the park on Saturdays, put off due to a week-end photo shoot. The slumber parties cancelled due to an upped deadline. What happened to vacations to DisneyLand and camping trips and just plain time together? Slipping through my fingers…

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Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...


Slipping through my fingers all the time
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I stare at nothing, the coffee filling the room with its familiar scent. The scent of memories float into my mind. The overwhelming desire to stop the world long enough to at least see one of my sisters grow up. The need to pause life and keep time from stealing what is the most precious thing in my life… Phoebe.

I feel the eyes of my baby sister on me. Patience, oh, such patience. Once she sees she has my attention, she smiles… you know the kind that fills her face and your heart. The one I want to always be able to provide. She little girl lean into me, hugging tightly to my waist. I return the embrace, never wanting to let go. Slipping through my fingers…

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Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile…
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I stand at the window watching the little girl laden with school books, lunch box, and an absent minded smile begin her trek to Baker Elementary School. I let my hand rest upon the beveled glass- its coolness ceasing the tremble in my hand. Bravely I waved good bye.

The realization came, sudden and totally unexpected. The involuntary gasp, echoed my reality. Fingers veiling my heart, providing the truth, she is, slipping through my fingers…

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Slipping through my fingers all the time
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I dash to the door taking the steps two at a time to reach her before she get onto the bus. I shout her name, she turns, panic and fear are her initial response. But, when I pick her up and spin her around until we are both dizzy and the onlookers think I have gone crazy, she knows I have grasped her slipping fingers and am pulling time back together. She buries her head into my shoulder and begs me to never let go.

“Not a chance babe, not a chance. How ‘bout we go to the park?”

“I bet I can swing higher than you!” she shout. Grabbing my hand in her tiny one, she pulls me in the direction of Golden Gate Park and back to that place where everything matters… no longer is she slipping through my fingers.


Lyrical Acknowledgement: The song Slipping Through My Fingers was written by Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus. I claim no ownership.