wheels & wings
April 6, 2013 § 7 Comments
My husband and I used to talk in muted tones of wishes we dared not draw in permanent sketches, simple childhood exercises in play that seemed just outside our son’s ability. We watched other children peddle to our neighborhood park while our son’s bike sat like a mysterious relic misplaced and unused in the corner of our garage.
This week sunshine interrupted gray skies, stretching the days further into the evening. The school bell signaled play, the park and sidewalks clustered with children meeting beneath the sunshine into unhurried, animated conversations. I watched all of this unfold, no longer lonely for our son’s image among his peers. I had accepted his unique interests alongside the social challenges that accompany these moments, settling into the casual company of individual friends.
Yesterday our son asked to bike to our neighborhood park to play with his friends and I found myself re-sketching expectations, cautious and hopeful, but also uncertain. No longer elementary age, our experiences with neighborhood children carry a burden of complicated history. Friends have acted unfriendly, sometimes unintentionally and other times maliciously, our son included. They have erred collectively and the uncertainty of their kindness makes me question the certainty of their company.
We have given our son wheels, but not wings. The ability to play without the freedom of letting go. So long have I hovered over our son, navigating the unspoken language of play that I am intimidated at the suggestion of letting go and inviting harm. Aware that the months and years have led us to a moment when I should stand more confidently among experiences, I am instead uncertain. I can feel the harm behind my doubts as I hold our son within arms reach.
Today I am trying to gather the lessons we have outlined, remembering that the times we have accompanied our son in difficult moments were in preparation for footsteps that would fall further from our side. Trying to gather old hopes into new opportunities to be among friends as a friend, exceptionally normal moments on wheels and wings.
these boots were made for talkin’
October 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
For years my daughter favored an inexpensive pair of black mary jane dress shoes. So well-loved were her shoes that she would fill in scratches with a black permanent marker until we were forced to replace them in a new size. Recently, my daughter has outgrown old favorites, creating a new experience.
Not one for shopping, I appealed to my daughter’s love of playing dress-up and we set out to try on new favorites. I met my match in creative opposition over a pair of shiny, black knee-high boots that seemed to scream “not old enough.” I am sure my daughter heard my doubts clamoring noisily in my head.
Stubborn, she stuffed her feet and baggy pants into the boots and paraded around the display tables. Eyes sparkling, she gauged my reaction, clearly anticipating a no. Instead, I countered and caught her off-balance. I said yes.
Once home, I embraced her new exercise in independence by outlining appropriate clothing choices for her new look. Together we felt around blindly at new boundaries. We broadened our choices from color and size to embrace self-respect and self-expression. The following day, dressed in her boots and an outfit I approved of, my daughter’s feet barely touched the ground as she walked to school.
Hand in hand, my little girl thanked me for her boots. She said they made her feel respected. I listened, entranced as my daughter opened up. My yes was really a validation of my daughter’s independent spirit, and an exercise in trust. She knows I am listening and I know she hears me.
scribblechic 