on a recent morning, i had time alone with my red bean. as she placed her order at the counter, the cashier jokingly said, she can’t be your daughter, y’all look nothing alike. we get that often. between sipping her coffee and exclaiming how grown up she feels having coffee, she prattled on about the qualities of a good horse, her growing list of names for horses, her dream of being a horse breeder and having a ginormous barn. i sat there listening and noticing the ways she looks like me, the ways she looks like my mother. we all have the same smile, the same hands. i began to think about how my mother and i look so very much alike and somehow, i still grew into someone totally unrecognizable to her.
since then i’ve been thinking of all the ways that my red bean will be changing and growing in the coming years and i hope that we have created a common ground, an easy way to be together so that the cycle will be broken and in the coming years my daughter won’t be unrecognizable to me. just the thought of that puts a squeeze on this mama’s heart.
growing up i longed for a different family, the kind of family my friends had. the idea that you could tell your mom something about what happened at school that day and not be dismissed with, it’s not the end of the world but rather to have been listened to, to have been understood. i wanted the kind of family that shared everything, not just dna. those friends, the ones that shared their lives with their parents and vice versa, they’re still close, they’re still family on that deeper level and more than anything, that matters to me. so i’m saying yes we can make cookies together, yes we can go on a walk, yes you can wear lipgloss if it makes you happy. the strange and heartbreaking thing is this, yes isn’t hard when family really matters.
weaving words along with everyone else inspired by november prompt-a-day. join us and link up over here, on the write alm fb page, or on twitter or instagram using the hashtag #writealm.