“It’s peaceful,” my fifteen-year-old daughter said, “Almost, too peaceful!” she added. We had just come from a four-mile walk on the beach. We were sitting on the porch facing the Atlantic. I was reflecting on our walk, feeling grateful for the expansion of the beach and sky in front of us.
As I listened to her I was reminded . . . she’s at the stage of her life where the more the better. I have entered the period in my life where less is more and peace and simplicity are what I crave the most.
Two women, two generations, two different takes on life. I wondered whether she’s bored with my ways. I’m sure it happens often these days.
Peaceful is golden for me. Peaceful can be boring to her.
I love my daughter. I admire and respect her lively, curious spirit and authentic character. She’s beautiful, loving, fun, and curious.
I want to offer her what I know and tell her to take it easy and feel the richness of every moment. I tell her but I’m not sure she really understands what I mean. She’s at the beginning of her life’s journey and I’m way past the middle point.
It begins to dawn on me that she’ll have to find out for herself. I can’t rob her of the privilege of her experience and I wouldn’t want to.
These days, I’m coming to understand that parenting, loving, co-existing have a lot to do with letting go and letting be.