Last night I was watching my daughter, Rhiannon, share her day with me and I started video taping her because the moment, albeit simple and typical, nothing special at all, was especially meaningful to me.
I was looking at her lovely face, realizing her exterior beauty is exceeded by her inner beauty. She just gives off this wonderful energy. The conversation was not particularly special – just discussing a class activity at school – but that’s when I realized what’s truly special is the fact that we were able to have this conversation at all. I kept smiling and giggling but inside I was almost in a panic, not wanting to miss one word or ever forget that moment.
I don’t think I talked to my mom like that. Pretty sure I didn’t share. I don’t know why. Probably thought I was too cool or something. And even though we do this often, how many nights have I not talked like this with my kids? How many conversations like this have I forgotten? I know not all parents get these opportunities for a myriad of reasons. Some are too busy, too estranged, too ill, too disconnected… just not lucky enough for some reason. I’m a good mom but nothing special, and yet, I get this opportunity more frequently than I deserve.
As I replayed the video today I thought about how it wouldn’t mean much to anyone else. It’s not particularly funny or sweet or sad or triumphant. It’s not something folks would replay on YouTube. It’s not me bragging on my kid’s accomplishments or complaining about teenage antics. It’s just a mom chatting with her daughter at the end of a day. Nothing special.
Yet while writing this through my streaming tears it somehow seems the most special thing in the world.