I am a firm believer in the cleansing power of rain. Water in general, but rain... maybe it is the fact that I spent most of my formative years in a country that has a lot of rain. Maybe it is something I just know in my very essence. Maybe I am channeling a bit of the bible stories I was told as a child. I don't know, but I love it!
If these darn knees weren't giving me fits today, I would probably put on a rain jacket, grab an umbrella and go find some puddles to splash in. Children totally have the right idea. I have said many times that I struggle with memories, but one that is always clear involves rain. We lived in a pop up camper for a bit when my two youngest sisters were babies. Dad was going to school in Mississippi and it was a way for all of us to be together.
I only remember snippets of it, I was only around 7 at the time. And the wave of disbelief that it was 49 years ago just smacked me in the face... wow... anyhow I digress. I remember losing a tooth and it falling down the sink drain and being devastated that the tooth fairy wouldn't come because I had carelessly lost the tooth. I remember Dad doing everything he could to "rescue" it. Somehow the fairy found me and let me know that she'd managed to use magic to get that silly tooth.
I remember Mom doing such a great job to make that camper home.
And I remember the storm. I think it was a minor twister, I remember all of us gathering inside our tiny pop up home, it seems we were sitting as low as we could get, under the tables. The next thing I remember was running through puddles in our swimsuits with my next sister down. We were splashing and dancing. I vaguely remember stuff being strewn about, mostly I remember the beautiful deep green color, the rain drops still falling and dancing in the rain and puddles.
Maybe that was the first time I was old enough to know I loved rain. It might just be innate for me.
I cherish being near free flowing water. Ironically, man-made lakes do not hold the same power over me. I will drag my feet and legs or hands into a free flowing clear river, splashing randomly. Get me near an ocean and I have an overwhelming urge to walk, splash, allow it to cover me. I am not a fan of lakes. I despise the darkness, the unwelcoming feeling that comes from that stagnant water that seems to go no where.
Surrounded this morning with the deep wet green and rolling thunder is perfect. I spent my morning mediation reflecting on motherhood. After all, it is mother's day. I come from a long line of strong women. My sweet girl carries on the family tradition as I am sure her beautiful daughters will do the same.
Each of us has our own perceptions of our mothers, I do not believe any of us for even a moment can say our mother's didn't love us unconditionally. None of us have been prefect. Not too long ago my daughter shared a meme, "when you are a kid you don't realize that you are also watching your parents grow up". How powerful is that?
There have been so many times that I longed for a do over, because in the silence of the night, with tears of remorse in my eyes I have realized that I could have said or done something differently. Because I simply didn't know better at that moment in time. Only to realize that was my learning process, so that the next time I could and would do better.
I often hear my daughter say things that are very similar to the words that I have thought if not spoken aloud. So many times growing up I felt that my parents loved my sisters more, that things were easier for them, that the same benchmarks didn't apply. That they were the favorites.
My girl often calls her brother the golden child. I've heard my oldest grand daughter speak similar things in regards to her sister. My grandmother and great grandmother were also the oldest child. Mom is the only one that wasn't, but in a way she was as she was the second of 7 and had to step up to help with the younger ones when her daddy passed away.
Now, at this point in life, I realize it wasn't that at all. Now, I am old enough and wise enough to call it was it truly is. The oldest child is the test child. It's where you learn, it's how you grow as a parent. Unfortunately it's where you make the first attempt at raising another human. Your are stricter - it's out of fear - what if you make a mistake? You inevitably make the mistake, feel the pain and pray that it hasn't caused irreparable damage.
You don't have the skills yet, you are learning. If anything, I think you are closer to the first born. After all they were the test baby. I personally know, that I cherish both of my babies. Being their mother has been one of the most life fulfilling gifts ever. I am so grateful to my girl for allowing me to be the young inexperienced mom that I was, for rolling with my mistakes and turning out to be an amazing mom. I am grateful to my boy for the strong man he has become. For knowing his own mind and following his own path. My sweet girl was my test baby, my sweet boy was the one that benefited from many of those lessons. I am sure he thanks her for the lessons she taught me.
My mom and I are more like friends now, rather than mom and daughter. We talk about random things, we laugh and cry together. Our journey hasn't been perfect, they never are. There were years that we fought and rarely spoke, but time is a salve that heals all wounds and brings those beautiful scars to life. They aren't scars that bring trauma, they are scars that serve as a gentle reminder of the journey you have traveled together. They allow more honesty and openness. The wounds have healed, the smooth scars allow a freedom.
It's perfect that this beautiful rain that is gently falling now is washing this beautiful day, refreshing it and giving it a chance to shine again. Forever I wanted to be an only child. I didn't realize that it was my inability to understand being the test child. At this phase in life... I cherish that role, the lessons I have learned and the extra growth gifted to me is priceless.
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