Dayle A. Shockley
reason to be thankful
http://www.NewsAndOpinion.com -- IT is a chilly November evening, just cool enough to need a light jacket. My teenage daughter and I have just finished a few hours of shopping and are parked outside a fast-food joint, devouring a gigantic order of french fries that we don't need.
The day hasn't gone according to plan. I left the house with the intention of dropping her off at a church-sponsored youth event, but we somehow got our wires crossed and discovered that the event isn't until next week. So, instead of being annoyed, we went shopping - an antidote for most trivial blunders in life.
With a gentle breeze coming through the car's open window, it seems a perfect night for a mother-daughter chat, but we are too busy with the fries to engage in meaningful conversation. Not that we would have anyway. Our relationship has reached that curious phase that often leaves mothers exhausted and frustrated.
Don't misunderstand. My daughter is perfectly normal. It is me that I am worried about. My IQ has plummeted. My suggestions and advice tend to be met with a rolling of the eyes, a twist of the hair, or - even worse - blank stares. My idea of fun is laughable, my list of rules is outrageous, and my driving is just plain awful. On top of that, I have no idea what constitutes a "hot" guy or a "cool" hairdo these days.
I try not to be too concerned. After all, I remember how dumb my mother was when I was 15. Seemingly overnight, she went from being a wise and brilliant woman to an old fogey with stupid rules. In time, I tell myself, the tide will turn, the planets will align, and my IQ will skyrocket.
For now, I remain steadfast in my efforts to be the best possible parent I can be, loving my daughter unconditionally, being there for her to lean on when she stumbles, and trying to lead by example.
It isn't always easy. Sometimes, my example falls short. And constantly enforcing the rules can wear you out. The path of least resistance often calls to me. But I remember how stubborn my mother was about such matters. So, I just keep plodding on, attempting to do what I know to be right and patiently watching my daughter flap her wings from time to time, dreaming of freedom.
She is licking her fingers now. Only a few french fries are left. Suddenly, she reaches over and pops on the radio, cranking up the volume. A lovely tune by the Katinas called "Thank You" is playing - an inspiring melody of praise and thanksgiving, so fitting for this season. I smile as she sings along, not missing a single word.
When the music fades, she says, "I love that song."
"Me, too," I say, then take a leap of faith. "What are you most thankful for tonight?" I ask, hoping she will tell me.
She shrugs. "I don't know."
I can't let her off the hook that easy. "Well, do you know what I am most thankful for tonight?" I ask, curious.
She doesn't hesitate. "Yep," she says, confidently. "Just being here with me."
"How did you know I was going to say that?" I ask, a bit surprised that she has read my heart - something she used to do a lot.
"Mom," she says, amused, "I just know you." She gives my hand a little pat, making my heart swell. Such moments are what I call "comfort" moments, because in moments like these, I know, without a doubt, that my daughter and I are moving along just fine.
As we gather up the mess we made, it occurs to me that, at first glance, it has been a rather ordinary evening in November: a mother sitting in a car with her daughter, eating French fries and sharing patches of conversation. But - remembering our nation's recent tragedies and the fact that we remain a country at war - I recognize just how special this November night has been.
With a grateful heart, I bring the car to life and head toward
JWR contributing columnist Dayle Allen Shockley is a Texas-based author. To comment on this column, please click here.
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