A mother lies in bed on a Sunday afternoon.
Struck with a fever, body aches and dry mouth. The flu, perhaps.
As she passes in and out of a nap, she thinks about her family and where everybody is.
Her husband is downstairs making her favorite red lentil soup. The smell coming up through the air conditioning vent. Onions, garlic and cumin being sauteed for the base.
Her stepdaughter is downstairs too. Watching whatever sports her father has on the TV. She’ll be heading back to her mom’s house soon. Two hours north. A long drive.
Her son is at the beach with his father playing football with his little cousin, whose family is visiting from NY. A really cute little kid who thinks that his big cousin is the end all and be all. She had a little cousin like that once.
But her daughter.
Her almost 13 year-old daughter gives her pause.
She’s gone to the mall with her friend where they’ll have lunch, do a little shopping and then go see the Hunger Games. But the movie theater is almost a mile away from the mall. And they’ll be walking by themselves. Crossing a few busy roads.
These two pubescent girls wearing their not-too-short shorts. Sauntering down the road in their flip flops with their long hair flowing, their smiles wide. Savoring their independence.
She knows what time they’re walking over because she knows what time the movie starts.
It’s now.
And in her mind’s eye, she imagines her daughter at various points along the way. And let’s her mind wander to all of the bad things that could happen: getting hit by a car, having her purse stolen or, worse, being abducted.
Her heart beats a bit faster because this last one is her worst fear. That someone would take her daughter. Take her away from her mother, her family. She knows it’s a bit irrational. But still, it does happen.
She takes a deep breath. Reminds herself that her daughter and her daughter’s friend are smart kids and responsible ones. That the area they are walking through is well populated. Safe.
And most importantly, that she has to let her grow up. Even if it’s only a mile at a time.
Then her phone rings. She’s put it in bed next to her for just this reason.
It’s her daughter: “Hi Mom. We’re at the movies. The walk was fast. Hope you’re feeling better. Love you.”
She smiles as she hangs up the phone. Curls back into bed and realizes she’s starting to get a little bit of an appetite.
PS Here’s the recipe for the soup: Red Lentil Soup With Lemon
9 comments
meri says:
Apr 2, 2012
I do not look fwd to that at all. She sounds like a smart bright little lady though
like her mommy.
Hope you feel better soon:-( Soup sounds fab
I might have to make that tonight
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Apr 2, 2012
Thanks Meri. She is a good kid. And you can’t stop the process or even control. Just try to make it go more smoothly.
And the soup tastes even better with a dollop of Greek yogurt on top!
Melanie says:
Apr 2, 2012
Great post, Jen. Hope you feel better soon! xo
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Apr 3, 2012
Thanks Melanie. Slowly but surely. I hate colds!
sheri says:
Apr 2, 2012
How do you always write about the exact experiences that I have had? This time about your girl – I can SOOOOO relate to this. I worry, all the time, about her physical safety. She moved off-campus this year (“Everyone moves off campus Junior year – it’s just what you do”) and it kills me that she does not have to buzz in to where she sleeps at night. I worry that she goes for a run by herself. I worry that she will just want to get home from a party before her friends and “just this once” she’ll walk alone. Even though I’ve made her swear she will never, ever do it. I could go on and on – but once again you have so beautifully verbalized what so many of us go through, especially with our girls.
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Apr 3, 2012
Thanks Sheri. I guess it’s just the universal experience of raising girls. I don’t have nearly the same concerns about my son, though I worry about him too. The thing that stinks is they have to go through it to grow up and there’s nothing we can do about it! And when I think about all of the things I did as a teen and as a college student, whew, am I lucky to have gotten through unscathed.
And if you and I lived close to one another, we would be more than virtual friends!!
sheri says:
Apr 3, 2012
Thanks Jen – I feel just the same!
Heather@ That Uncomfortable Itch says:
Apr 5, 2012
The other day I read this and burst into tears so I couldn’t comment. The process of letting go can be so painful. At the same time it’s quite beautiful to watch them grow and spread their wings.
Jen @ Lifes Dewlaps says:
Apr 9, 2012
Heather: it is a beautiful and scarey thing!