I invited my grown daughter over for an evening together. We needed to talk. We didn’t need to chat or causally text. No. We needed a deep meaningful conversation. Face to face. She accepted my invitation to stay over.
I had worried delving into our yesterdays where past trauma and loss lingered would be awkward. It wasn’t. We needed to go beyond the mother to child talks of yesteryear. These shared moments needed to be discussed woman to woman.
I am not sure if it was the wine or the aesthetic glow of the fire, or maybe it was a combination of things, but we peeled away the layers that create psychological carnage.
We opened up beyond the superficial aspects of a ‘photoshopped’ social media life. We were real. We were real as real gets. It was tearful and yet it was more liberating than either of us had imagined. My admiration grew. I saw my daughter, my child, as the amazing woman she had become.
I had been afraid to release the stagnant emotions bottled up inside.
Never realizing it would be the catalyst for a healing miracle in our lives.
There before me a beautiful woman had grown where my child once stood.. Yes, there was a friend where my daughter once stood.
We sat near the hearth where the warmth radiated from the fire. Not as mother and child but as friends.