I missed National Daughter’s Day, which is both understandable given the busyness of any ordinary life and appalling considering how important my daughters are to me.
While our roles have evolved in magical and mundane ways, they also have remained blessedly constant. In a world full of amazing people. Katherine and Molly always have been two of my favorites. I love our frequent chats and our memorable travels. I look forward to every phone call, sip of tea, glass of wine, piece of pie, song, show, laugh, dance, hike, yoga class, Gilmore Girls moment that we share.
I was not a perfect mom and it is true that my go-to piece of medical advice for them “Go for a quick run and see how you feel” may not have been AMA approved. It is also true, though, that I loved them fiercely from the moment I held them in my arms, and I love them fiercely still.
They are my favorite combination of quirky and kind – deep-thinking, hard-working nut balls who are generally up for any challenge and don’t mind chuckling at their own mistakes.
One recently showed up for her first writer’s club meeting, introduced herself to her elderly host, and discovered she had arrived two weeks early. The other microwaved fish for lunch, a lingering office faux pas that, she claims, is still causing people to avoid her desk and the entire office space around it.
“Ahh,” I told them each as they shared their stories and I laughed so hard I cried. “You are my daughter. I’m so sorry.”
I claim some credit for their mellowness and extreme adaptability as they developed those skills due to my parenting. “Huh!” I said once to nine-year old Katherine as we left a hospital emergency room to which we had been transported by ambulance thanks to a school playground incident. “I guess if you ride to a hospital in an ambulance, you have to figure out a way to get home. You okay to walk?” She nodded her little concussed head and off we went.
Another time, I could not find my car keys and had to improvise a way to get Molly to preschool. “Isn’t this fun?” I gasped as she pedaled her little legs on her training-wheeled bike and I jogged alongside. “Uh huh,” she gamely agreed, little sweat bubbles appearing on her forehead.
We can’t bike or walk to each other anymore. One lives in California, the other in Minneapolis with plans to move to Paris in the spring. But, it’s amazing how close those places can seem thanks to phone calls, Facetime and the occasional airplane or two.
I get to see them both next week and I can’t wait. Until then, Happy belated Daughter’s Day, Katherine and Molly and thanks for being you!
