one minute
March 24, 2014 § 12 Comments
In the bustle of our morning busyness, between the sleepy progress of breakfast and the choreographed chaos of chauffeuring my children in different directions, I found myself stranded among fleeting minutes. Moving through the practiced efficiency of routine goodbyes I weighed unspoken words against lost opportunities in search of extra time.
On a whim, I asked my daughter for one minute; inviting her to watch the numbers guarding her time so long as she lent me her ears. The spontaneity of my request and my daughter’s unanticipated approval prevented a more calculated message. Instead my words tumbled one over another, clumsily but well-intentioned.
I told my daughter I do not know how not to worry and apologized in advance for all the words that come out wrong. I predicted personal failings in the imperfect practice of mothering and begged patience with errors of ignorance, promising only love. I set aside all the warnings and questions that whispered of my worries, finding my daughter’s eyes no longer measuring the time between us.
Then, I let go of things unsaid for the promise of one minute more and held my little girl close.
scribblechic 
cool
Thank you.
What that mean
I love you work.
To both of your subsequent comments, a sincere note of appreciation for each kind word.
You welcome
Sometimes your writing just leaves me speechless. Wonderful.
Thanks, Janice! The balance of permitting silence while seeking permission to speak, giving control in place of assuming control; this was a very rewarding exercise in shared vulnerability that I may employ more intentionally in the future.
Your constant willingness to admit flaws and mistakes is what makes your writing so meaningful, and your parenting (I have no doubt) so effective.
Thank you, Charles. Hopefully my well-intentended errors and uncertain success will thread together a story of humility and gratitude for an imperfect experience of motherhood.
So often we find ourselves wishing we could replay some of life’s moments. With that in mind it’s therefore such a gift when we recognize the ones for which that is unnecessary; the ones that stand out like lighthouses.
An elegant simile for the experience of parenting; a light of hope against the sharp corners of remorse. Thank you, Maurice.