To My Children:
Don’t think I don’t understand. I was you once. All of you.
I was that shy girl, so insecure that I couldn’t look up in the hall, my feet led me from class to class. Grade to grade. Never looking up until I grew up.
I was that kid, so rebellious and mad, much smarter than my parents. Or so I thought.
I was moody. Slamming my bedroom door until I had no more door to slam, it was removed…along with any privacy…for over a year.
My parents wanted and I refused to give. I wanted and my parents refused to give. It was war between hormones and knowledge.
Hormones never win. They lead you astray. They are the apple. They are the devil on your shoulder.
Open at least one ear, let your parents words run around your head. We do know. We are right.
I WAS you once.
Upon a time.
Not all that long ago.
Close enough where I can still hear the teases and taunts on the playground leaving me permanently scared and insecure about my butt.
Close enough that my heart still pounds as I feel the breath on my face as I lean toward my first kiss.
Close enough to remember my heart sinking in angst.
Close enough to want to shake her, that girl who didn’t listen.
I’m grown. My experiences still stay with me. The memories still vivid. The emotions still raw.
I remember everything.
So when you roll your eyes and turn your back to ignore, know that inside me is who and where you are now.
I DO understand. More than you will ever know.
When you have kids of your own.
And the kid that you once were comes close to the surface again.
To be completely ignored by your children.
Then maybe that’s when you’ll realize that I did understand and that I offered an experienced hand.
But for now, you’ll do this journey somewhat alone.
We all do.
With our parents watching, wringing their rejected hands together.
But always know that you aren’t alone.
I am here.
I will listen.
I love you.
More than you will ever know.