Drawing of "4 Mile Beach" by Mike Bencze |
That was cool.
Because those words were exactly the gift I needed, though I didn’t know it until I read them.
Maybe I had forgotten. Or maybe I figured that since I’m in my 50s now, I really shouldn’t need my mother to be proud of me anymore.
But Cecilia knew. Maybe because she’s a daughter who recently lost her mother. Or because she has two daughters of her own — daughters who are now fully grown and quite accomplished, but whom she knows will always want her to be proud of them, no matter how independent they feel they are.
Or maybe it’s because Cecilia’s been watching over me since my mother died, carefully tracking my successes and struggles since I was 15. And just like my mother would, Cecilia pays more attention to how I sound than to what I say, listening to my voice more than my words to determine if I am OK.
So she knows that no matter how many years pass, I will always be that teenager who needs her mother, and will always want to know what she thinks of who I became. And luckily for both me and my mother, Cecilia can speak for her, saying what I need to hear, just when I need it most.
Because even though she is plenty busy still nurturing her own daughters while preparing to become a grandmother, Cecilia long ago carved room in her heart for the daughter of a friend who died.
(Why was Wilder was so special to my mother? Because she helped protect a small population of threatened shorebirds found nesting there. More on that in this post.)
And while I love that Cecilia loved my mother enough to love me as well, I appreciate even more now that our bond has grown beyond their friendship into one of our own. Because sometimes you don’t need a mother — you just need a friend to hike to a cool waterfall with:
R4
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