Make Me A Bird

I see these two pink orbs of energy waving at me from the back of my nanny's car, which is driving in front of me. The car turns right away from me as I go left. For an instant, my mind seizes into alarm - there's been an impossible error - I'm tethered to my daughters irrevocably. They are my heart; how can I be separated from my life force? My momentary amnesia fades as I drive away, but I feel uneasy nonetheless.

I've heard women speak of the connection to their children like an amaranthine umbilical cord. An invisible bond between mother and child that transcends proximity and circumstance. Mothers of children that have gone missing know inexplicably if their child is dead or alive. Even my own mother and I will have the same dream on the same night, or feel similar aches and pains, despite living over a thousand miles from each other.

We spend our childhood being prepared for independence. We spend our teen years yearning for the day the leash is unclipped. We spend our early adult years proving (or perhaps disproving) to our parents that we can do it on our own. And then the tables are turned. When given the reins, just like the rest of life, some of us fail miserably, some of us overachieve, but most of us fall in the middle.

Once again, I'm transported to a new awareness by taking on one simple title: mom.

"Dear God, make me a bird so I can fly far - far, far away..."
-Jenny, Forrest Gump

P.S. Thanks Mimi