This Mother’s Day I am thinking how grateful I am to my two daughters.
From the time they were born they grounded me. They may have thought I was holding their hands to keep them safe, which of course I was, but what they may not know is they kept me as well. They kept me focused on the present and the important. When they were young girls the important was watching a stream of ants, wading in the creek to look for fairy rings, drawing with crayons and the slow process of bedtime; brushing hair and stories and songs no matter how off key. The special occasions, glorious birthdays and family visits, vacations by the sea. As they grew into young women and then adults the stories faded to memory, they cut their hair, listened to their own music, found their own celebrations and as they should, they moved away.
But still they keep me grounded. Knowing them as adults is a pleasure. a source of pride, a joy. I never knew my parents as an adult child and to have the gift of friendship with each of very unique daughters is extraordinary to me. So I want to say thank you to each of them for being exactly who they are, and for the company they’ve kept with me, and for the time yet to come.
This was written almost 25 years ago.
I have two daughters. One has eyes dark as a cave’s pool, rich as chocolate cake. The other’s are flecked with auburn gold the way a rock slicked with rain looks in the sun. Their eyes hold forests; walnut and redwood.
This morning they asked for fancy music and danced on the smoke gray carpet. They danced in and out of each others’ steps over and under spinning arms their small strong bodies twirling, fingertips brushing together.
Together they could twist their arms into vines weaving a chair strong enough to hold anyone they choose. They would rock them, back and forth, while one laughs with the arc of the swing, and the other measures movement in the air.