Gy, you know I love you. I try to show it every single day.
But for the days that I don’t or seem to be showing it less, I’ve written this out so you’ll know that I don’t ever stop loving you for who you are. Being you is so immeasurably satisfying and I want you to believe that always.
There are days when I feel exhausted, like, weary-to-the-bone exhausted. I may be snapping at you irritably, trying to offload whatever misplaced anger or annoyance I may be feeling. You’ve probably seen the worst of me and I’m hoping, the best of me, as well.
But this post isn’t about me. It’s about you. The crazy, sweet, loving, eye-rolling, God-why-did-you-give-me-this-mom tween whom I simultaneously want to crush with bear hugs and pepper with kisses.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Your instinct to help someone else in need, I’ve always admired that about you. Remember offering to tie A’s shoes when he came over to spend a day with us? Oh and recall how you came and told me that he’d lost a tennis ball during play and gently pacifying me by saying, ‘He apologised already. Don’t be hard on him. It’s just a ball.’
You love mehendi, don’t you? The act of getting it applied, admiring the rich colour as it spreads across the skin, the way the patterns appear, they all thrill you. How I adore that about you.
I’ve never been one to go ga-ga over shoes. For me, comfort trumps everything else. Yet, look at you! Those pink shoes would look grotesque on me but they look like they’re tailor made for you! Such style and snazzy pairing of socks, did you get these genes from my sister? Surely not from me, I can assure you.
Nail polish! We’ve covered this one already in another post, haven’t we? Ah, the joy of watching your face light up at the simplest of things. Please, please don’t lose that. It will hold you in good stead as you grow older. Trust me on this one. Oh and pink suits you! Much like green, red, maroon and shudder orange too!
This thing you have for dressing up and ransacking my wardrobe for every dupatta possible to carry out your fantasies, I love it. Okay, I may sternly tell you to return it once done and I may be a little testy about the fact that you dance around when I’ve asked you to clean your room, but it tickles me. It makes me feel all glad that the child in you is alive and well, even as you grow into a tween with a solid mind, temper and attitude of her own.
I don’t have to say this one at all, do I? Your love for books surpasses mine and that’s saying something! How you read, oh my goodness! It stuns me. You can read anywhere! I wrote this about you a while ago and it is still true!
She can read anywhere, this daughter of mine: in a moving car even as it bounces along over speed breakers; on the bed, surrounded by a blanket fort and pillows piled high; in a cozy bay window with a view of the temple on the hill; on the living room floor with her back propped up against the French windows; in the comfortable embrace of a couch as it gently holds her lithe form, with one foot or maybe both flung carelessly over the arm rest; in a revolving chair that would make my head spin but seems to have no effect on her whatsoever.
Her reading is so deep, so intense that she hears nothing and nobody when she is entrenched between the pages of a book. If she has nothing to do and nobody to talk to, she will still be happy as long as she has a book in her hands.
So you see, there isn’t just one thing I love about you. It’s a whole lot of them. And this list isn’t done, not by half. If I were to start listing everything though, this would turn into a book. Hey, that’s an idea!
Gy, being yourself is the best thing you can do for yourself. It allows you to make decisions, be crazy, be happy, be everything you ever want to be. The one thing I would suggest though, is to stay open: To experiences, to advice from elders and to kindness and empathy.Be You. Be everything glorious, wonderful and true. Be unique. Be the red apple in a sea of green. Click To Tweet
The idea for this post came from Parul’s lovely and short piece:
*Featured image: Shutterstock
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