What will she remember from this moment? Will she remember it at all? Will I?
We stand in the kitchen, the news on the tiny TV in the corner at our backs. She peels apples, one after another, her hands deft and sure. I chop them, quickly and with purpose, dropping the chunks into our biggest pot. We talk about things I don't now remember - snippets of news, plans for the weekend, her friends. We peel and chop companionably. She chatters, I chatter, the dog waits for chunks of apple that fall from my careless hands. We laugh, her and I, over nothing, over everything.
This moment with her is nothing. It is not special, because it is only one moment of many others that are similar. We are often like this together - cooking, folding laundry, running an errand. Always...companionable. But still, I am her mother, and I KNOW there is more.
I can feel under the surface, the tension that runs through her spine. I feel her urgency to leave, to fly, to flee, to be on her own. I see the fire in her eyes, the yearning to be in her own kitchen, to be making her own food with her own dishes. I see her wanting me to be the guest, to be showing off her skills to me. I remember those feelings from when I was 16. Was it really so very long ago? Yes. Oh yes... it was. So long ago that she cannot believe I could ever really understand how she feels. But how could I not?
Later we will eat applesauce. The sauce we made together, her suggestions of nutmeg and cloves discarded at my insistence that nutmeg and cloves are for pie but sauce needs the purity of only itself, and a dash of cinnamon and a pinch of sugar. She rolled her eyes then, but later is pleased with the smooth warm sauce that tastes as if it fell right from the branches into the bowl. When she makes her own sauce, in her own kitchen, with her own dishes, will she add nutmeg and cloves? Or will she remember this moment, this day, this making of applesauce and my instructions... and add her nutmeg and cloves just for the sake of being able to.
I wonder if she will remember...
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4 comments:
This is so nice.
She will remember.
Cherish this time.
The funny thing is that my daughter did anything and everything she could to be gone from home a couple of years ago.
She worked all the time, went places with her friends...
Now, I am her best friend. She spends more time with me than she has since she was 10!
It's nice.
I really enjoyed reading your post today. I also have a 16 yr old daughter. I remember when I was 16 and could not wait to run my own house. 16 yr olds are nuts (he, he, he)
It sounds like a spectacular time. In a quiet way, though.. And applesauce sounds really good - but what's it for? Pardon my ignorance, but I was wondering if it's a dish in its own right, or a side dish?
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