zen of being the Kid

Our daughter is travelling through New Zealand.  It takes a lot of guts to set off for strange shores with nothing more than a knapsack and Netbook.  Then again she’s been trained well just being our Kid.

One summer day, she may have been about 7 or 8, we went for a walk through the fields on the farm.  With the time to talk about everything under that sun, she asked why the sky was blue, the grass green and what were those little red berries tucked under the alfalfa.

“Those?  I don’t know.  Let’s see?”  I plucked one and popped it in my mouth.  And toppled over.

She shrieked.

I opened one eye.

The rest is a story of how her school teachers for many years wondered how to call Children’s Aid to complain about my perverted sense of humour.  In my defense, my sense of humour was finely honed to protect against her father’s and her own twisted views on life.

triple ginger cookies

I like to think that through the trials of being our daughter, she has picked up a few survival skills.  Baking awesome desserts is one.  Writing incredibly well is another.

She posts on her blog – though not as frequently as her fans would like – missives from the North and South Island.  Interspersed with the posts are “The Becca Chronicles“.  Way too racy for a mother to read; but I do because that’s what mothers do.  Dad, on the other hand, just mumbles about the Southern way of managing things.

Crow’s Nest is one of her latest posts and it really caught me.  Of course, it’s about books… after a fashion.  Or maybe, more accurately it’s about the loss of dreams and wishes, the things we build and infuse with hope which then languish from lack of sustenance or fail from things out of our control.

I’m sharing it without her permission – but then I’m her momma and she’s the one who taught me to colour outside the lines.

The Kid’s Mom

The Kid decking the rose garden for me

6 thoughts on “zen of being the Kid

  1. lovely tender post. our daughter is home for the holidays. from the very start of her life 27 years ago it was always amazing to me to watch how much she came here with that had nothing to do with me. it always seemed like a walking testament to past lives. it does feel truly fortunate to have these wonderful beings in our lives. and the love we feel for our kids seems as close to the kind of love the Buddha talks about as any I have known.

    • Yes. So much of what she brings home really has nothing to do with me. Thank you for that insight! It’s often so fresh – even in its turmoil.

      I never thought I could feel as fiercely as I do about one being. It may not always have been the best thing to feel. 😉 I love the lines in the metta sutta:

      Even as a mother protects with her life
      Her child, her only child,
      So with a boundless heart
      Should one cherish all living beings:

      We should consider a shared blog series on the Koan of Kids, eh?

  2. Nice sense of humour!! 🙂

    I’m from New Zealand, near Christchurch in the South Island to be more precise. (I live in the UK now though) I’m sure she is having a fabulous time!


  3. Puerhan! Welcome back! I’ve been waiting for another poem from you. 🙂

    the Kid seems to be having an awesome time. They’re in the South Island now and headed for pony rides in the surf.


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