Through the Eyes of a Daughter
My daughter-Tiffany, has driven a good hour to visit and spend the day, as well as, over-night, with me. She is an adult now and itís almost like having a very young girl friend. I should be so honored to have her company because we truly like each other. I awoke very early the next morning and the thought of this story was suddenly fresh in my mind:
Like the touch of cold watery ice drops, dripping on my back-as the heat of the day rises from beneath my skin, I can feel the haunting memory of my mother
creep upon me, in the early Dawn. My eyes are chained to a mirror of strange visions of how much I favor my dear mother, the older I become.
I am almost forced to embrace -this morning- a strange, but tender feeling that causes my heart to quiver in an instance, overwhelmed by the smell and thoughts of deep yellow blossoms with a glaze of honey, suckle flowers that permeate my nostrils, and conquer my mind. I think of my daughter, Tiffany and how valuable she is to me. She brings forth a form of grace that is soothing to my soul and often shares warm expressions of love and laughter, that seem to reach out above and beyond the same universe that makes the nights be still. I hurry to dance with my mind, adjoined by the warmth of a spirit that promises a new beginning.
I look in the mirror and see a familiar face, touched by the power that gave me my motherís genes; We were not close and it disturbs me greatly - until I smile and see the warmth of my own face protruding out at me as if the sun had suddenly risen above the darkness that once loomed behind a huge mountain of doubt and despair.
And then - there is a sudden dance in my heart, a jubilee, in celebration of a mother and daughterís life long love and admiration for one another; There - she is - the face of an angel; the face of my loving daughter-Tiffany. The thoughts of my own mother are pushed aside as I embrace the warmth and vitality of my daughter's soothing vibrations of a kindred spirit that is much like my own.
I am blessed to have her as a daughter and as a friend. We are very gifted to have the level of consciousness to appreciate each other. Her love shines bright for me, as I look into her eyes and see all the things that I couldnít see in my very own motherís eyes; things that I wanted, desired and needed to assist in my journey on the road to life. I am so blessed to have the gift of her love that adds to my world an abundance of inner-strength and substance.
Tiffany is quietly strong, young, smart and pretty, with a warm and loving spirit. She is so much more assure of her self than I seem ever to be -but that is what having love, in your life, will do for you as you journey down the road of life long lessons to be learned.
There again, is the heat rising beneath my skin. I feel the sudden coolness, as if the wind rushes to win the race that desires to rescue me from the invasion of my own child -hood memories of a relationship with a mother that leaves me unsure and unknowing of myself.
I envision, while looking in the mirror, my daughter looking much like me, growing older as I have done, she - remembering the resemblance to me in the early Dawn, as I remember my mother.
It is nice to know that there will be no eyes chained to a mirror of strange visions, there will be no memories of cold conversations, unloving looks, or tear drops lost from a small girlís heart. There will be no surprise visits remembering traces of a part of a self that is unfamiliar and sometimes frightening. I am blessed and happy and honored to say that there will only be the memories of long girl talks, tears of joy and lots of devotion, admiration and love, through the eyes of a daughter.
I suppose that I should bathe and dress now. I can hear Tiffany calling me from the guest room positioned just down the hall. She is asking me if Iíd like to go to breakfast with her this morning? That sounds inviting.