My daughter Sarah turns 15 on June 3rd. When she was a baby, I foresaw that as a disaster. As I changed her diapers, gave her baths, cuddled her close as a baby, I worried about that seemingly far-off day when she would be a teenager and hate me. I read the magazine articles, I read the book, "Reviving Ophelia," and I probably, at moments, held her so tight she could hardly breathe. If I did, I imagine she cried out and I mistook it for a gas bubble.
In my imagination, I was sure at 15 she would be surly, moody, distant. Perhaps she'd wear too much black eyeliner, play loud music with her door closed, beg to go to parties and come home smelling funny, and I'd be worrying about her getting pregnant.
God must be laughing. Sarah doesn't wear any eyeliner, and doesn't even worry too much about the latest fashions. T-shirts and jeans are her favorite outfit, topped off with a headscarf or one of her 30-some hats. She plays her music loud, especially while she's doing the dishes. In fact, it takes her forever to get the dishes done, because she's off in a fantasy world, loudly performing songs from "Rent," "Phantom of the Opera," "Mamma Mia!" or "West Side Story"-- belting the words out louder than the soundtracks. When she's not performing on Broadway in her mind, she's singing and dancing along to Elvis, Creedance Clearwater Revival, Bruce Springsteen, or one of the many hits on the Oldies radio station. She's not at all what I expected or worried about 15 years ago!
Sarah loves me. She does think I'm a little weird, but I guess I am. But she actually spends time with me-- on purpose! We like to ride to Kearney, with the radio blasting, the windows open, and she gets mad if I'm not singing along, whereby she'll give me a gentle Gibbs-slap to the back of the head. We like to go to one of the parks and read together, when it's warm. Sometimes she'll take along one of her notebooks in which she's writing her latest novel, Fan Fiction, or short stories. We talk about pretty much anything, and very openly.
We both love Diet Dr. Pepper, and almost always get a 32-oz. to go, sometimes with an order of chocolate chip cookies. We both have an odd fascination and love for the characters of NCIS, and even talk about their histories, what will happen next in their lives, and spontaneously quote lines from the show. Sometimes it sounds like these people are our crazy relatives that we don't get to see very often, but we love them very much.
Recently, Sarah found some of my journals from junior high and early high school. She's found them to be very entertaining reading, and I am thrown back into remembering what I was like at her age. I didn't have near the amount of confidence that she does, nor did I enjoy life all that much. Sarah is very different from what I was back then, although I, like she, did bury myself in books and writing tomes. Sarah has always been very enthusastic about life. I thought it was a toddler thing. But she hasn't lost that in her spirit, and I pray she never will. She reminds me to be enthusiastic about the little things. Like a Diet Dr. Pepper! Or a new episode of NCIS!! Or a favorite song coming on the radio!! I thought she'd burst a blood vessel when we took her to Graceland a couple of years ago!
Not only does she love Elvis Presley's music (that started with "Lilo and Stitch"), but she's read a lot about his life, death and legacy. It's given her compassion for people who struggle and do stupid things in their hurt. She knows Elvis was anything but a god, but appreciates the gift he had that was his blessing and curse. I think it gives her a sensitivity to what the world does with people who have unearthly talent, and how we end up destroying the things that we love so passionatley. She gets very angry when someone flippantly refers to Elvis' tragic end, or makes fun of it.
I know someday in the not-too-distant future my "little buddy" will be off making a life of her own, and I'll have to drink my Diet Dr. Pepper alone... sigh. But I love watching her grow, mature and learn, although at times it breaks my heart to see her learn how tough the world can be on someone with heart. I will never understand how people treat parenthood so flippantly and lightly. It is one of the greatest gifts I've been given. I just wish I could go back in time and assure that young, nervous mother with a newborn infant, "it'll be ok, just do your best. Just love her, take good care of her, and put her in God's hands for the rest. Keep breathing!!"
Or as Dory the Fish says in "Finding Nemo," "Just keep swimming, swimming, just keep swimming..."
Life is good.
No comments:
Post a Comment