I’ve always wished for more folks in my life who “get” me. I don’t know if it means I’m unusual, or just plain weird, but it has always seemed that the list of people who understand what I am “all about” has been small. I’ve had times in my life where I felt a profound loneliness just because I looked around and couldn’t find a single person who could walk along to the beat of the same drummer. It’s not to say that my drummer is superior – it’s just that I would have liked some company when I was jamming along.
I’ve so often felt that what I think, what I dream of, what I laugh at, and what matters most to me at any given stage in my life, is somehow an inner road that I walk in solitude. The moments in my life when I Did find a kindred soul were all the more sweet for their rarity. I can remember every instance in my life where I felt that little sparkle of connection that told me, “This person knows me!” My heart always rejoiced simply for being recognized and realized by someone I loved.
(some of those someones are reading this right now! A, H) J
Lately, I’ve been wondering if the whole purpose of this inner road I’ve been walking was to prepare me for the inclusion of my daughter.
Because my daughter is unusual. Sometimes she is just plain weird. She walks to the beat of her own drummer and has inner roadways that are lovely and unique.
She is four.
She has convictions and a strong personality. She is sometimes shy and sometimes vivacious. At night, her dreams are loud and vivid; during the day, her artwork is explosive and sincere.
She stands up for the underdog and worries about pollution. Documentaries about base-jumping or paleontology make her electric with interest and hundreds of questions. She loves to roll in the dirt at recess, has conversations with the cats, and memorizes the lyrics to all of her favorite songs.
When watching a documentary about climbing Mt. Everest, she asked me if I would hold her hand if she ever decided to climb it herself. I said I would.
For over a year now, she has proclaimed that she will adopt babies who need homes, rather than give birth to them, when she is grown. She asks me if I’ll help her go “get one” when she’s old enough. I said I would.
She cries when we don’t have time to volunteer at the animal sanctuary.
She can be feisty, competitive, and empathetic.
When I found her making a long string of signs with the word “Free” written on each one, she told me it was for a store she was going to open someday where everything was free for people who couldn’t afford clothes or food.
She is full of compliments, intensity, and attention to detail. She is interested in home décor, child sponsorship, and Pinterest.
She is strange. And I love that about her.
I KNOW her. I rejoice in her. I am so blessed that my life includes this little spunky girl so that we can walk together towards all the dreams we share.
Knowing my Addison has been more exhilarating than ever being known myself.
