Starting Another Year
One year ago today, I posted “She Mended My Heart,” the very first blog for Variegated Views and shortly after, I spoke with one of my daughters, listening attentively as she described her first week of school with her new students. Her zeal and determination to improve the lives of her pupils reminded me of how much she has transformed from a raw childhood to an advanced educator who empowers middle school minds. Her passion and skill captivate me, prompting me to bestow upon you, my readers, thoughts on the two of us — an improbable, though wonderful pair.
I delight in my teacher-daughter and her entire being makes me happy. Even though most of our interactions occur with miles between us, I feel as close to her now as I did when she was my little girl. We talk and video-chat occasionally, text often, and share internet finds almost daily.
She has been a professional for more years than I have qualified for senior citizen discounts, and I savor what we have in common more than I ever hoped for. We may not always prefer the same music, movies, or literature, and we sometimes fall on separate sides of politics, but we are alike in ways that matter. We are both seekers of exceptional discoveries that interrupt ordinary days and make them delightful.
Like me, my daughter also has a whimsy style, qualities that some might call bizarre or eccentric, others endearing and unfettered. She decorates her long nails with dashing designs, I express myself by sporting bohemian attire. We both exude an imaginative and curious vision that allows us to explore the unusual and we are both equipped with a core belief that small, day-to-day things can also be remarkable things.
It is gratifying that we share a penchant for writing poetry, growing wildflowers, and encouraging cuteness in preschoolers. We have found equally successful artistic ways to reduce stress, she by sketching with charcoal and me by filling adult coloring books. I (sort of) get her sense of humor, but I especially like that I can tell her things that make her laugh without rolling her eyes.
For example, if I told her I heard a unique bird concert in bed this morning, she would not have to feign interest. I would then elaborate by explaining that outside my bedroom window, there was a beaked, feathered creature who insisted on singing a duet with the battery-deprived smoke alarm on the other side of my bedroom door. Embracing the tale, she might cheekily comment that I was a silly old bird, slightly hinting at my ripeness of age, but she would mean it with deep affection and admiration.
On a more serious note, both mother and daughter in this dissertation hold a resolve to recognize the potential in people, especially in their tendency to do good. We are both often senselessly hopeful and sometimes absurdly audacious. As a bonus, we have a mirrored connection: she gets me, I get her.
In “She Mended My Heart,” I expressed that singing can be a form of therapy, capable of elevating your energy or soothing your soul. Seeing yourself in a loved one’s soul is an experience akin to hearing both a lullaby and an awakening song, an ethereal enlightenment. I included a poem on that first blog post, one I wrote and dedicated to a young girl who sang with a gift.
Today, I applaud a daughter with a gift of her own …
She astounds me
fascinates me
livens my being
A woman booming
with confidence
delicate and strong
She has arrived
a blossom being
with a golden soul