Rolling eyes, shrugged shoulders, no words.
Body language is my daughter’s preferred mode of communication.
My words feel loud. Unheard. Brushed off. Stomped on.
The teenager. A brick wall I try to climb.
But do I take umbrage? Of course, I’m her parent.
Do I really? No. Not really. Not that much. Well, maybe a little. Of course I do, I’m her parent!
And there it is. The tipping point where the exclamation mark lands.
I don’t mean to get angry. It’s not at all what I intended. But there it is, nonetheless.
It feels sudden, but it’s not.
It’s been growing as my child moves further away from the protective boundaries I had placed around her.
She is becoming an explorer, but hasn’t found her words yet.
And neither have I.
Perhaps that is where we meet.