One of the best things about the last week was floating in the Atlantic Ocean staring into the sky with my daughter next to me and the two of us holding hands. There is nothing more satisfying that has happened to me in years than those precious minutes where she sought my hand, grabbed it and held on as we road the waves on our backs.
Being a teenage is about breaking free from your parent's metaphorical umbilical cord. Like every other kid her age, she is pushing boundaries, matching wills and trying to establish herself separate from me.
But then there are those moments. Those glorious moments when she seeks me out. In the ocean, she just wanted to be close to me and hold my hand and float in the bliss of the ocean. There are those nights when it's late and I'm drifting off to sleep and I hear her climbing up the stairs and then feel the covers lifting off the bed and her body sliding in next mine. I don't acknowledge it because calling attention to it would embarrass her and then she would stop. But I am quietly thrilled that she still looks for me and needs the physical proximity.
Sometimes being a parent of an adolescent can make me feel like the biggest idiot and most repulsive creature. There are so many flaws in my being -- physically and intellectually -- and my sweet child is so quick to point them out. But when those infrequent moments when she wants me manifest, the slate between us is wiped clean and I forget the slights. I just unfold and welcome her in.
Comments