My daughter isn’t in any hurry to have a ‘real’ job. She’s not in a hurry to join the workforce; to make a name for herself; to carve out a niche in the world. To be a grownup.
She would rather travel the world than settle down. She isn’t ready to have children. Isn’t sure if she’ll ever be ready.
She isn’t impressed with titles, or money, or the kind of car a person drives; or the clothes they wear. Designer brands and designer names are completely lost and wasted on her.
She would rather live in jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt. She never wears make-up. Her hair is always tied back in a careless, messy twist on top of her head. She has to be forced, kicking and screaming, into a dress. She will only wear a dress for an unavoidable occasion, like a wedding or a job interview. And even then, she absolutely and unequivocally refuses to wear shoes that have a heel.
She has no patience for entitlement, or attitude, or hubris or privilege. She is capable of working; hard; but she’d rather keep to the shadows in the background than take centre stage in the limelight (although she is capable of running the show: I’ve seen her do it).
She was taught manners and she is capable of using them but she thinks they are silly, false social conventions and she only drags them out when she has no other choice.
She doesn’t believe in God.
She swears like a sailor.
She has a terrible, awful temper and she’ll always be brutally honest with you, whether you like it or you don’t. If you don’t want to hear what she has to say, don’t ask.
My daughter always talks to the waiter. And the taxi driver. And the homeless person on the street.
She stops to take care of a wounded animal. Any wounded animal. Every wounded animal. She doesn’t leave the animal until it has died or been safely dropped off at a rescue shelter.
Given time, after she has been brutally honest with you, she always comes back to apologize for “being an ass.” And to give you a hug. And to reiterate how sorry she is, even though you already know.
She doesn’t have much money but if you were ever in need, she would unthinkingly hand over her last dollar. She goes by the premise that there’s plenty more where that came from, and she will get a job – any job – until she has earned enough to cover whatever costs loom on the horizon.
She housesits her friends’ pets. For free. Just because.
She pretends to hate being hugged, but then she sits down beside you, so close you couldn’t fit a razor blade in between. She playfully punches your arm and, when you tell her, “I love you, too,” she pretends she doesn’t know what you’re talking about.
But she does know…
No matter where she is in the world, she stays in touch, calling a few times a week and giving you a minute-by-minute playback of her latest adventures and escapades. It never feels like she’s on another continent because the contact is never really broken.
And when she does come back home, she carves out time for a visit.
When her Mama visits her, she accompanies her back to the bus station, even though she doesn’t have a car. And hugs her Mama: hard; goodbye. And waits there on the sidewalk until the bus leaves.
She is beautiful, in large part because she has absolutely no idea how lovely she is (and doesn’t really care all that much).
She is more grown up than most grown-ups I know, mostly because she has figured out so many things – what matters and what does not – that take the rest of us a lifetime to ‘get’.
She may not believe in God, but she has as much kindness, as much compassion, as much acceptance as the most giving religious folks I have known.
She makes my heart hurt with love.
She is everything I have ever wanted to be.
She is more real than anyone I have ever known.
She makes me so very grateful that I got to be her Mom…
Source of Photo: Great Takes Photography
Patti Moore Wilson/ © wednesdayschildca.wordpress.com