One of the joys of being a parent is watching your children's aptitudes and personalities unfold. It's impossible to describe how satisfying it is to be part of the process of seeing someone take ownership of their talents, to have a role in helping them discover and cultivate their best selves.
I have always encouraged my children to think and to question and to consider how their choices and actions impact their own lives and the world around them. Often as they mull things over in their own minds and share their thoughts with me, I'm struck by how much I learn from them and how much I've learned about myself in the process of being their mother.
My 12-year-old son is reserved and quiet but a keen observer with a sly sense of humor. He was born a scientist and an engineer and is cautious but calculated in assessing risk. He's single minded in pursuing his passions and an adept problem solver. He's very in tune to emotional undercurrents in situations and great at arguing his case with intelligence and finesse. I share his love of science and emotional intelligence, and I'm in awe of the engineering skills he inherited from his dad. My son always gets my jokes, no matter how finely nuanced the humor, and often in social situations, we exchange knowing glances across the room, confident we're thinking the exact same thing.
My 10-year-old daughter is self-assured, bright, and mature beyond her years. She's often described by teachers as wise, not just smart. She's a peacemaker among her peers, spiritual, and sensitive to the needs and feelings of others--a good citizen of the world. She has a mile-wide nurturing streak, and her vibrant and clever sense of humor completely undoes me at times. She's a list maker, organizer, and goal setter. And she's turned out to be a writer, which bonds her to me all the more.
Like me, she always has a small notebook with her so she can sketch out ideas or write whenever the spirit moves her. The other day when she got off the school bus, she told me she'd written a poem in her notebook, which was inspired by a bare-limbed tree she saw on her way to school:
The Nest
There it was
Amidst the branches was a home
The birds
The cold nest abandoned
Perhaps they went south to France
Whatever the reason, it sits
Alone and frost covered
The branches reach out like gnarled fingers
Reaching into the early morning sky
The frost looks like a fairy dropped glitter
Over the cold hard earth
That nest is a place of memories
Hopefully they will be restored next year
For now it is alone
The nest.
