I think about you every day. I do. We text, Skype, and talk on the phone, but still it is not enough for me. I miss you. The curse of giving birth is letting go. I hate it but accept it. I recall the words of Kahlil Gibran, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You make me proud and I thank you for staying true to who I always knew you would be.
I watch you walk, head high, heart light, smiling on the inside. You’ve made it you are thinking to yourself, finally after the days, months, years that bleed into the undistinguishable. You are embarking on the walk from now to forever. You’re in a hurry and understandably, after all, for eighteen years you have had to follow another’s beat, and never your own. You are thinking to yourself that after all these many years you’ve had to be and conform to another’s definition of what they thought you were, giving and giving and giving, and never being recognized. Thinking, yes this it is at last my moment to strike out. There is a storm brewing in your belly, I see it. Daughter of mine, in your eyes I see only deep pools of promise and possibility.
I smile. I know you like the back of my hand. I see your moods fall over your shoulders as early morning rain in April. I only need to look into the backs of your eyes to know whether, or not, I smile or I leave you to fester in yourself. You’ve never changed, not once in all these years. Either you’ll salute the day with sunshine in your heart or you’ll growl. Even now, it’s a gamble who I’ll meet in the hallway before seven. I’m guessing you don’t know that I know this about you or all the other nuances of you. Or that I know who you’ve grown to become in all these days that you’d swear you were pounding down the pavement to another’s tune or that I was listening.
I’d agree if only to give you satisfaction of claiming all knowing knowledge but you’d see through me. If I had all seeing eyes I’d see you smile on the outside, the smile I never see that says ‘she knows me, more than I give her credit for, more than I wanted her to know, more than I know about myself sometimes.’ It would the sort of smile a child almost never shares with a parent. We’re not allowed to take credit for our efforts, shout to the heavens for surviving, for fighting, for the screaming, for the pushing, for believing against all the odds, in our own creations.
The smile, the one she doesn’t see is my inside-outside smile. It says if you only knew that after all these years it was never me, never my beat, not ever, not even once, did you walk the journey to the sounds in my heart. You’ll not realize, at least not yet, that it was never my wishes you followed. Nor my choices did you make. Never, not once did you accept my demands. I could tell you and spare you the journey but why burst your bubble. You’d not believe me, nope. You’d think I was lying.
In your eyes, there is more depth waiting to be revealed. It is a depth of life only available to you once there are days piled up behind you, when you’ve traveled roads too crowded to turn left or right and even empty ones with deafening silence. After all this, including blisters, boxes of Band-Aids of all sorts and sizes, heart aches and breaks, lovers and lost friends too, you’ll arrive at a place of solitude so bright with awareness a peace will wash over your shoulders. In that moment, you’ll know just how much I knew about you.
In my heart, if you could see, there is a smile brighter than the sun. I love you sweet girl.
Have you told someone close to you how your feel lately? Love is free, give freely when you can