Updated: May 18, 2016
Originally Published: Oct. 17, 2015
Sometimes I deliberately park far from the entrance because my 7-year-old daughter, Mia, still believes she needs to hold my hand in the parking lot. Each time I gently grasp her tiny fingers, I squeeze a little tighter, acutely aware that it won’t be long before she realizes she can walk on her own. On occasion, I’ll even choose a spot on the opposite side of the street just to extend our time together as we make our way to our destination. Yet, without fail, the moment we reach the sidewalk’s edge, she releases my hand and begins to skip ahead.
I watch her wavy hair bounce with each skip, and even without seeing her expression, I know a radiant smile lights up her face. Shuffle, skip. Shuffle, skip. Before I can blink, she’s halfway down the street. I call out, “Touch the hand.” That’s our little signal that she’s ventured too far. She races back to grab my hand again.
This moment gives me a chance to connect with her. I inquire about something that’s been troubling her lately. “You know you can share anything with me,” I remind her. Without hesitation, she responds, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.” There it is—another step toward her independence. And for me, it’s a delicate balance between letting her grow and ensuring she knows I’m always here.
I realize that as she matures, our conversations will likely become more challenging, and those precious connections might become less frequent—at least for a time. It may be early in her journey, but I can already sense the intensity that lies ahead. I remember my own struggles to carve out my identity separate from my mother’s expectations. I rebelled, created distance, and ultimately spent years trying to bridge that gap, yearning for a deeper connection, even when our lives felt intricately intertwined. It was complex then, and it remains so today.
Mia perceives me as another obstacle on her path to independence. Even at such a young age, she is beginning to create her own space. The dynamic of mother and daughter is almost as natural as the eventual return to closeness. For now, I hold my feelings of discomfort close and watch in amazement as she begins to unfurl her wings. Whenever I find a reason to hold her hand, even if just for a brief moment across the parking lot, I cherish it. I will savor these fleeting moments of childhood dependence and seek opportunities to keep her close, long after she stops skipping down the sidewalk.
This article was originally published on Oct. 17, 2015.
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In summary, as our children grow, we must navigate the bittersweet journey of their independence, all while cherishing the moments that allow us to connect.