When a parent listens: for my mother and my children

Here would be a nice place
to listen to someone you love.

There comes a time as you’re growing up, when you realize that your life would be easier if your parent would not always shine a big flashlight on the parts that aren’t quite right and start asking questions.

Because, when you’re growing up you just can’t know yet that everything is in progress. You are sure that what is true about you right now will be true forever, and some of those things, you’d like to keep to yourself, thank you very much.

And, you don’t need your parent asking you how you’re handling this, what you are doing about that, what’s going on with whatever that thing is that’s going on. Because, you don't even know yourself.

No, you would like your parent to notice the highs, not the lows, please. Ask about the achievements, not the missteps. Not worry about you.  See you the way you wish to be seen, as a smart, independent person who doesn’t need a parent hovering.

And so, that’s the story of you that you offer.

And that is what your parent does.

Your parent celebrates the story you offer.

A day comes later, when you realize your parent probably knew there was more to that story you told, but knew it was more important to let you sit with it for a while, maybe look back at a few pages, maybe do your own guessing about what would happen next.    

Later still, you begin to realize that what you say, what you look like, what you’re wearing on the outside makes people form opinions about you. And while only the outside cover of your story is available to them, you will eventually want to share some of the inside pages too.

Because, you have learned that trusting another with your inside stories, and hearing theirs, is also known as love.

There comes a time when you’ve grown up, and you realize the weight of your worth. You know your gifts, your capacity to love and be loved. You’ve accepted your flaws, and know your empathy. You understand compassion and pride. You realize that where your mind goes, your heart is already there waiting to ask your mind a few questions, just to make sure they're on the same page, looking out for you.

You like your story a lot now, even if you’re still writing it. You are still sharing it with your parent, because now, there are parts they won’t know any other way. You have learned that they will listen now, to learn about you again.

Later, when you have your own small child, they will begin to tell you their own first lines, and soon, it won’t be a page they give you, but a small stack of pages. You will know what they’re leaving out, and you will let them do that.

Being listened to has taught you that you are lovable as much for what you don’t show, as what you tell. 

Being listened to has taught you that for all you would give to those you love so much, if you have been listening, you have offered it already.