My Daughter’s Childhood Makes Me Feel Resentful
As I watch her grow up, my inner child can’t help but ask “why didn’t I have that too?”
“Go away! Don’t touch me!”
My daughter, is sulking behind the sofa. Although her words are trying to push me away, I know that what she needs most is to know I am still here.
“How was school today?”
She emerges from behind the sofa, rubbing the tears from her eyes. She climbs onto my lap without any grace, elbowing me in the boob as she makes herself comfortable. The poor kid gets her coordination skills from me.
“A girl pushed my trike over!”
“Oh no!”
“Yeah and my friends were talking and they were not very nice!”
We cuddle for a while as I stroke her soft, blonde hair. I can’t help but notice that she looks like me when I was her age. And we share a lot of the same personality traits. For a moment I am four again, and these words echo in my mind:
“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
