On my daughter's birthday

 

This is my daughter's birthday. She is in Norway hoping to see the Northern Lights.

I am celebrating her life in Switzerland where I live. She currently lives in Boston.

What am I celebrating?

The joy of having her in my life all these years. I'm taking out the memories through the years and being thankful for them in every ion of my body.

There are memories of her peeking over her bumper guard in her crib, or walking to look where the toads hang out when she was two.

There is seeing her try new things, succeed in most and pick herself up when she didn't.

Of sitting on the floor in the hallway between our bedrooms in our Riverway Boston condo in discussion on anything under the entire universe.

Of watching her walk across the stage for her Boston Latin School for her high school diploma and in Scotland to get her Masters Degree. She didn't go to her B.A. graduation at Northeastern.

There's the beautiful tapestry calendar she needle pointed for me. It covers the entire back of my couch.

It's our regular Facebook chats.

It's when we do manage to be in the same country, same place at the same time. In Boston we head for Dempsey's for breakfast, in Geneva to the Cafe de Soleil for fondue and in Argeles, any of the cafés. And we share hopes, dreams, worries, laughter...

Were their worries?

We had health issues. Never does she fly when I'm not emotionally in the cockpit to make sure the pilots do the right thing. It's a variation of the worry I had when as a teenager she was late coming home (she almost always called. Pre cell phones, we intercommunicated from time to time. I was also required to phone her if I would be late, and if I failed, she reamed me out).

Is my daughter perfect?

No.

Was I a perfect mother?

Oh no.

Does she run her life as I would run it (which I have no right to do).

Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It is her choices, not mine. I will not steal her life.

Nor do I do things as she might do. It's also my life.

I believe we respect the other and our decisions. I suspect my father felt the same way about my life and he may have more head shaking moments in disbelief than I have with my daughter. 

Being a single mom, even though I had more support emotionally and financially than many, was not easy at times, but I don't think there wasn't a moment I was grateful for her presence in my life.

Happy Birthday Llara. I love you more than you can ever know.