Quiet Tuesday - My Daughter Is Writing
Jul. 17th, 2007 02:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qosThe weather has turned cooler, and so it's much quieter at The New Place. No late parties in the pool last night, so I was able to get to sleep on time, but still woke up exhausted and with an upset stomach -- so I decided to take my bosses at their word and called in sick saying I needed to stay home and take care of myself today. The pool has remained deserted.
My daughter is suddenly turning into a teenager, with music playing all the time, sometimes country, sometimes what she calls "techno" -- and I realize that I am now officially part of the Older Generation, since the latter is seldom anything I want to listen to. She's taken to spending time in her room, door closed, with her new laptop, listening to music -- and writing. She's keeping her own journal and she's writing a story, or at least started to. I was in her room a few days ago and found a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. Deciding to help her be tidy, I picked it up, then uncrumpled it and read it. I was startled by the vivid words on the page as she made a first (obviously unsatisfactory in her own eyes) attempt to tell her tale.
It may have been one my most quietly exciting moments as a mother, this realization that my daughter, unlike me in so many ways, is starting to write down the stories in her mind. I tucked the wrinkled piece of paper away in one of my drawers. Who knows how long it will be before she actively shares her writing with me? I never shared mine with my own mother.
She's in her room with the door closed and her music playing, and rather than ask her to turn it down even lower I've moved from the built-in desk opposite her door into my room and onto my gorgeous bed and am taking advantage of the new wireless router I installed today.
I'm enjoying just hanging out on my bed for the first time since I moved in with my Ex-husband. I have a nice headboard to lean against, a large comfy mattress, and lots of light. Once again my bedroom is a private, comfortable haven. (I tried to make it one in the last house, but for years I shared it with the Daughter, and then the ruined floor, poor lighting and clutter made it strictly utilitarian.)
Even with the pool noise and the heat of upstairs, I am loving The New Place. It feels so good to be truly comfortable in my own home, to have room to breathe. Some days I just sit on my couch and look around the room and sigh with pleasure.
My daughter is suddenly turning into a teenager, with music playing all the time, sometimes country, sometimes what she calls "techno" -- and I realize that I am now officially part of the Older Generation, since the latter is seldom anything I want to listen to. She's taken to spending time in her room, door closed, with her new laptop, listening to music -- and writing. She's keeping her own journal and she's writing a story, or at least started to. I was in her room a few days ago and found a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. Deciding to help her be tidy, I picked it up, then uncrumpled it and read it. I was startled by the vivid words on the page as she made a first (obviously unsatisfactory in her own eyes) attempt to tell her tale.
It may have been one my most quietly exciting moments as a mother, this realization that my daughter, unlike me in so many ways, is starting to write down the stories in her mind. I tucked the wrinkled piece of paper away in one of my drawers. Who knows how long it will be before she actively shares her writing with me? I never shared mine with my own mother.
She's in her room with the door closed and her music playing, and rather than ask her to turn it down even lower I've moved from the built-in desk opposite her door into my room and onto my gorgeous bed and am taking advantage of the new wireless router I installed today.
I'm enjoying just hanging out on my bed for the first time since I moved in with my Ex-husband. I have a nice headboard to lean against, a large comfy mattress, and lots of light. Once again my bedroom is a private, comfortable haven. (I tried to make it one in the last house, but for years I shared it with the Daughter, and then the ruined floor, poor lighting and clutter made it strictly utilitarian.)
Even with the pool noise and the heat of upstairs, I am loving The New Place. It feels so good to be truly comfortable in my own home, to have room to breathe. Some days I just sit on my couch and look around the room and sigh with pleasure.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-18 01:42 am (UTC)I hope, when I am a parent, that I might greet my own children's beginning of adulthood with the same attitude you have.