The complex dance goes on between us, pulling together and pushing apart. When she was 3 years old she said she wanted to live in the backyard playhouse when she grew up and got married. I hoped she would be bolder and more independent than that, which I suppose falls into the be-careful-what-you-wish-for category.
Still, when I walk into her kitchen 3,000 miles away, I see my kitchen. We buy the same apples, we cook the same vegetables, she hangs the dish towel on the same oven door handle. On the counter is my Grandma Annie’s wooden chopping bowl.
Mothering 40-somethings is certainly easier on the body. I don’t have to chase up and down soccer fields or carry a toddler who refuses to walk. Still, it’s a lifetime enterprise. Like most of us, I carry my kids in my heart every minute of every day.Copyright ©2014 Randi Kreiss. Randi can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.