scribblechic

Tomorrow is the last day of your first year of high school. The last two school days have been test days, cumulative evaluations of mastery. Soon we will have a tidy snap shot of academic performance that will outline growth and highlight opportunities for improvement, but for today I want to dwell on your attention to preparation over the weight of your performance.

Whatever your marks, I’m proud of your effort. I noticed the determined bent of your brow as you drifted between subjects reviewing old material. I saw the nervous tension when you shepherded our pup outdoors into distracted play. I watched the way you returned after each reprieve to your studies without needling or nagging.

I noticed you trying your best.

I’m not sure I say that enough. Maybe its this stage of our experience, an unexceptional parenting phenomenon to offer a premonition of hindsight. Lately I hear myself cautioning potential harm without first acknowledging the brave certainty of your leap into chance. I miss the enthusiasm of your early lessons when I would stand aside uncertain consequences and celebrate your curious exploration.

Too often our conversations feel reactionary rather than reflective and I think that’s a pretty important distinction. I am going to try to be a better listener and to pay closer attention to the shape of your efforts.

I’m still figuring out how to be your mother, worrying so much about making the right choices that I sometimes forget to stand still in greater attentiveness to the reality of the present over the certain uncertainty of what may be.

I’m trying my best, too.

Love, Mom