Today, I Did Not Disappoint My Daughter
"Are we still going to the park?" asks my ten-year-old daughter, Katie.
I made the promise in the morning rush when the whole day stretched out before me and time had seemed infinite. I think about all the tasks I need to finish. Laundry, dinner, cleaning up a day's worth of disasters created by Reid, my two-year-old son. Maybe tomorrow hovers on my lips.
"Please?" Her voice is edged with caution; the hope in her eyes tempered by already-suffered disappointments.
Afternoon is sliding into evening. The park is nearly a mile's walk. Dinner will be late; forget laundry and toy patrol. But Katie's pleading brown-eyed gaze melts my resistance.
"All right. We'll go."
She yells and jumps up and down. I'm stunned by the appearance of this joyous little girl. This is the Katie I used to know-the daughter I had before the Backstreet Boys, Pokmon, Nickelodeon movies, diaries locked with tiny gold keys, and crushes on boys named Ryan. This unexpected realization tightens my insides and makes my eyes hot and wet. I'm suddenly eager to get to the park. It's as if the swings and slides and monkey bars will stave off the hungry tendrils of adulthood that are already creeping around my daughter.
When we arrive, the playground has been abandoned by the after-school crowd. The sky is pink and orange; purple threatens an early dusk. But my kids don't notice. Reid runs to the slide; Katie gallops to the swings. She's tall and thin. Like a colt.
It's been difficult for me to deal with the "new" Katie. She likes to push emotional buttons, argue minute points, and complain about chores. She's also gotten into the habit of closing the door to her room, turning up the stereo, and not coming out unless hunger pains force her to venture into the kitchen.
We've hurt each other. Disappointment and frustration and unfairness have touched Katie's life numerous times. I have no way to cushion the blows growing up brings. Sometimes, I can't reach her with the messages she needs to hear. She found out that I'm just a human being instead of a mom-who-can-do-no-wrong. More often than not, I've been the source of her disappointment.
I miss the little girl who wanted me to push her on the swing and catch her at the end of the slide. Now she plays with Reid the way I used to play with her. I'm proud and a little sad. I know Katie isn't done learning. She still needs me. Make-up, boys, driving lessons so many experiences await. Soon, Katie will prefer going to the mall over going to the park. She'll think slides and swings and monkey bars are childish and boring.
I watch Katie chase Reid across the playground; I laugh when she catches him and tickles his ribs. Cherished moments are simple to create. Such a moment is unfolding now because today, I did not disappoint my daughter.