Letters for C

Parenting is a unique and stressful experience, full of doubts and even guilt.

Because I write about, this doesn’t mean I offer some advice. I offer, only, my own experience.

As somebody within my history has said “all I can do with a good advice is to give it to another,”[N.I.] as each and every of us has to build his own experience. We can not live the other’s life wearing his shoes or doing what he had said to us to do. We have to gain our own blisters by our new shoes, walking on our own path, beginning with listening to others and doing what we think appropriate to be done.

If we are fortunate enough to have grown up with both our parents under the same roof we have a real transfer of experience and values but also mentalities and preconceptions. Some of them we are able to cherish and to pass them forward and some other to adapt or – frankly – to discard them.

When I say that, I suppose a complete functioning family, with a balanced life and without any not-necessary violence.

 Following the path of this text, because that is, a text – even I would like to call it a story -, you can find a chain of snapshots from my experience as a parent (now, I almost see my daughter smiling, …) without a chronology. They are presented as they show up.

1.

She  was still in the hospital, where was born a few days earlier. We, the parents, were late with choosing the name due to some second thoughts. Without the name was no Birth Certificate, without Birth Certificate was no way to take her out from the hospital.

She was so small and we were so eager to see her at home.

Finally, the first night at home has come. I remember looking at her, in the faint light of the room, with a lot of thoughts swirling in my head. There were the untold philosophical questions, about the destiny and future. That was the moment when I began to be afraid of her eighteenth birthday.

2.

Next comes an image, forever etched in my memory, as the portrait of my fear. There is the scene, seen in any airport, with people pushing the luggage carts. One of them is my daughter, on the way to her destiny, leaving us behind and the comfortable life together. It wasn’t allowed for us to accompany her because there was the entry of the security area, so we were just watching her moving away.

Did she know this was the moment I was afraid during all eighteen years since she was born?

Of course not!

She still was to face her own fears, the unknown path intended to bring her to the dreamed future.

3.

 

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