Spending time with my daughter Meera on Sunday was powerful. Something new opened in our relationship.
We spent the day together tending to our home. I find that there is so much that happens when we just hang out. We don’t always need to go on an adventure or do some amazing collage project on our living room floor.
Often the magical moments present themselves when we engage with the ordinary.
Sunday was no exception. There was a moment when we were talking, and I noticed that my not so little girl’s eyes had welled up with tears. I drew her close, asking, “What’s happening sweet girl?”
My chest throbbed and I felt such a tender love as we stood heart to heart, hugging one another tightly. It felt like we were holding on for dear life, and inside of our embrace I sensed the magic bubble of love that unites us.
This was nothing other than the intimacy of our hearts and souls, that which calls us together as mother and daughter in this lifetime.
We simultaneously reveled in the preciousness of the moment while palpably tasting its tender fragility.
I heard her choking back her tears, swallowing feelings that were searching for a pathway out, and I said, “It’s ok to cry, Love. Let it out. I’m here.” Her tears seeped out and as they trickled down her pale, soft cheeks I felt my own sobs well up from deep inside of me.
The sound of our crying merged with the lilting piano music we’d been listening to on this quiet Sunday afternoon. Together they gave birth to the soundtrack of this sacred portal to mother-daughter communion.
As she matures, we are becoming even closer, our hearts and minds weaving together to create unimaginable tapestries of great beauty, depth and humor. I am touched by the sometimes graceful and sometimes passionately abrupt unfolding of our relationship as she grows into her own person.
She has her own ideas, visions and preferences. She is unabashedly herself and I champion this moment as she becomes more independent, stepping firmly on the earth, at ease in her own skin.
It seems like every time I look over at her she is taller, her hips rounder, and I know she is not a little girl anymore.
I love that at ten years old she cooks dinner for us, easily sauteing broccolini and kale until it’s bright green and tender. I appreciate how she helps me hang pictures on the wall and is a solidly contributing member of our household. This is new! It’s exciting stuff.
She even took the reins and made our “Meera 2017” calendar, a project that has been sitting on my list for months. Once I showed her how to work with the program, she went for it! I am amazed by her natural design sense and the confidence that exudes from her pores.
I know she is watching me, her Mama, as I grow, as I meet the challenges of being a single mother, navigating the ups and downs of our world right now and I recognize the importance of modeling grounded presence, one that is infused with peace, kindness, sensitivity and discernment. She soaks me up, perhaps even more than I know.
I am honored by this invitation. I feel a depth of responsibility that is only increasing as my daughter crosses the bridge from little girl to young woman.
Mostly, I feel profoundly grateful to be playing the role of Meera’s mother.