I wish I knew a way to always protect her.
From an unsavory comment by her classmate.
From a casual neglect by a teacher.
From a small accident at recess time.
From my own well-meaning but faulty parenting.
When I look at her, I know she deserves nothing but the best.
But what is the best?
Is it to protect her from every possible, probable hurt?
Or is it to let her be- even if it means, she experiences a mild let-down, from her family and friends, at times?
I wish I could tell her, all that I have learned about the real world….that no amount of self-improvement will impress that one bully who dresses up as a friend.
I wish I could tell her that, her humor lights up a room.
I wish I could tell her that even though I get upset about her covering her bedroom walls with colors and stickers, never in a million years do I want her to stop being silly, or stop being a child.
I wish I could tell her in a way she can comprehend that her kindness and wise words fill my heart with so much love and genuine respect for her.
I wish I could stop “fine-tuning” her already fascinating personality.
I wish I could tell her that every time I held her hand too tight while crossing a road, or appear too paranoid while she makes her 50th jump from the sofa on to the floor, I am as much trying to protect her as I am trying to manage my untamable fears.
I wish I could tell her that a mother’s heart and mind are scary places. That no person should ever be exposed to that kind of frantic and fearsome worrying. The constant worrying about possible scenarios in which their child can get hurt.
But mostly, I wish I could tell her every day, that she is perfect. That she is loved. That she is worthy of everything that comes her way.