I am my children and everything around them...

I was I for the longest time. Me and my interests and my career and my world filled with writing, books, assignments, clients, sports, cinema, music, theatre, picnics, bike rides...

Suddenly I find my world expanding. As my children grow up, I move with them into their worlds. New worlds filled with fun, new people, anticipation, of course mixed, as always with anxiety. I once again pass through the familiar paths of anger, frustration, achievement, ecstacy. As they dream, I dream. For them, and with them. The fun and frolic of a 12-year old and the inhibited expectations of a 17-year old. I laugh when they laugh; I cry when they cry, and many a time, when they don't.

When they give importance to seemingly insignificant things in their lives, I can see exactly what it means to them. I see their faces with understanding, I know what's in their minds. Well, most of the time.

Many a time I do not understand being the mother of an older child...it is incomprehensible. I think of myself at that age, and how my mother was, when I was my older daughter's age, and still I do not comprehend. I hold her hand tight, but I know I must let go. And then I can go back to being me, with my many interests.

In the meantime, I really must stop crying each time my children sing on stage...what's with me, really?


Ramesh said…

Enjoyed your blog !! Beautiful expression of your feelings straight from your heart.Very touching indeed and so true!!
Thank you, Ramesh, for visiting and re-visiting Lens and Sensibility.
Anonymous said…
a true picture of an involved mother.i tried to recall that age and stage in my life.my reactions were similar.in fact,sometimes i identify myself with my daughter and even grand daughters!!!!!!strange,is it not?

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