Becoming my own child 02: Learning to read, with a twist!

My daughter, Annika, is learning to read. Every billboard, every label is an occasion for her to test her new skills as they develop. The sparkle in her green eyes at the joy of this whole world opening up in front of her makes possible what seemed impossible: my love for her keeps growing, expanding. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this amazing opportunity of witnessing this marvelous process.

This morning she picked up a book about princesses and wizards and brought it to the breakfast table. After gulping her milk and cookies and while I was still sipping my hot cinnamon tea, she started to read it. Once again, my heart was pounding, cheering for her, just savoring each of her articulations of the syllables. She is at the stage in which she is still unsure of the right sound of the “c”, and does not quite understand how “q” and “g” plus “u” operate. I was just as happy at her hits as at her misses, and my heart just clapped whenever she found the way to correct herself. It was precisely because of that , that I didn’t feel the urge to correct her. And because, as a teacher, I know that the so-called ‘mistakes’ are valuable assets in every learning process. But most of all, it was because I am certain, one hundred per cent sure, that she will learn these things eventually.

It was exactly in the midst of all these thoughts and feelings that I was able to draw yet another analogy with me being my own mother. As my own mother, I know I am in the process of regaining my sense of worth. I am learning how to read and follow the signs on the road back to being fully aware of the value of my soul, on the path of remembering who I really am. I am also certain of the outcome: I will get there, for sure, no matter what, at my own pace. There is nothing that will have me give up or look away; it is the next step that I must climb in order to move on to other things; my success is as unavoidable as Annika’s success in learning how to read and write. And once again, I found a new ground on which to settle any emotions of doubt and fear that may arise. Whenever that happens, I just have to connect with that certainty in order to illuminate my emotions; in that way, they heal and fade, leaving me room to rejoice at my own process and celebrate it, too.

And so, while the mother knows all this and observes lovingly and patiently, the daughter can simply enjoy the journey, full of trust and confidence, completely carefree. Just walk, run, trip, fall, cry, get up, go on, jump, fall again, laugh, get up, brush her knees, walk backwards, laugh some more: anything goes! My inner daughter can purely go about her journey with ease and joy, and rest assured that –as it is usually the case—mommy knows best .