trading places
June 18, 2013 § 4 Comments
Peeking in my daughter’s doorway at bedtime I found her form curled over a heavy volume of poetry, her fingers drawing an invisible line as her eyes searched the dense table of contents for titles. Next door her brother was playing a game. I paused in the tiny space between both worlds marveling at the unpredictable experience of my children trading places. Stacks of books still litter my son’s bedroom floor and pockets of cluttered play spill across my daughter’s room, but the child whose face was always tucked within a book was otherwise distracted and the child who struggled to find her way into reading was caught in the pages of a book.
I was immediately reminded of a time long past, a memory of a day under the sun as my children navigated a park. My son’s small form racing ahead towards a new discovery, my daughter toddling unsteady at a different pace in a separate direction. With one hand I reach to draw one child back while guiding the other forward. Standing outside my children’s rooms I could feel my daughter racing forward, stories and poetry drawing her into discoveries. Letting her chase words onto a new path I turned to my son silently promising to guide him toward new stories, reaching one hand back while ever mindful of the path ahead.
scribblechic 
All of life an adventure, our children are taking but the first few faltering steps. We guide them as we too were guided.
I think this is the most consistent piece of parenting, the reaching out and letting go. Ever guiding while following.
I love this about children, that as soon as we think we’ve figured them out they do something to surprise us.
Exactly!