This is the vision I return to most often, when thinking of my daughter. It used to make me so happy. Hair blown back, not from the wind, but from her movement…her energy dispersed into a world willing to harbor it.
My middle daughter lives most often on the outside of things. Boundaries, for her, exist only as speed bumps…things skidded across, without the slightest realization that they were there to slow her down.
I spend my time balancing the difference between protecting her from this world…pushing her back inside that proverbial box, and turning my mind’s eye from the inevitable wreckage that comes from the realization that this world doesn’t tend well to those that ignore the limits. It’s a process of course, and I am standing witness to the heartbreak of a girl who keeps being left aside. The world is pushing back, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
I can’t stop the lessons, and I can’t seem to find a comfortable place between the men who leave and the ones who want to stay. I’m too busy letting everyone down, standing confused inside that box that she hasn’t even noticed. I’ve spent a lot of time lately standing still, convinced that taking my time meant making the right choices. I hear lots of voices, and they are all asking different questions. When I finally answer, it is seldom with the right voice.
And yet here is my daughter, skipping through this life and tasting all of it. Moving at the speed of light, because the wind isn’t fast enough. Tears of loneliness erased quickly by the laughter of a well placed joke. She can scream in pain and dance in the rain within seconds of each other. She is here and there all at once. She is everywhere always.
I should follow her lead.