Pink Think: “When a mother quarrels with a daughter, she has a double dose of unhappiness; hers from the conflict, and empathy with her daughter’s from the conflict with her.” – Terri Apter
I was a little distracted as my husband and I painted the town pink and celebrated Valentine’s Day. Weighing heavy on my mind was a conversation my oldest daughter and I had earlier that afternoon.
She had a basketball game earlier in the day. Her team lost and the other team had the added advantage of height. My daughter, who is only thirteen, already shows a lot of promise as a guard. She is lightning fast, has good control of the ball, and makes her shots most of the time.
I thought however, that she was a ball hog. I didn’t mince words and I told her she could have passed more.
Big, fat tears began rolling down her cheeks and she said, “But I tried!” I held on to her shoulders to look her in the eyes. I had something important to say, and she said, “What? What is it?” And I could not get myself to continue because she looked so defenseless and broken. I told her, “I love you,” but the words sounded hollow.
***
So as my husband and I drove home from a delicious Valentine Dinner, some dancing, bowling and dance revolution at the video arcade – a great time! – I wondered how I could make up this quarrel with my daughter.
We got home to three kids happily playing a card game called golf which is basically group solitaire. My daughter didn’t seem to harbor any resentment as we played a few hands of golf well into the night. We tucked them in, I told her I loved her, and got ready for bed, too.
On my side of the bathroom sink, she had left me a note. I picked it up with trembling fingers.
She told me she knew she should pass more and appreciated my pointers, but – with a little smiley – I could be more gentle next time.
My sweet, sweet girl.
I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a letter back in reply. As I wrote my apology, I cried. I told her I was so grateful for her note; I was so very sorry for my harsh words; she was just learning the sport and I shouldn’t expect so much of her; in time she would learn the intricate balance of stepping up to help her team and making her team mates shine; she is beautiful inside and outside; I was so grateful to have the privilege of being her mother; I would love her no matter what.
For me, whose career has revolved around words all my life, it was one of the most satisfying things I had written in a long time.
I folded this love letter to my daughter and taped it on her bathroom mirror for her to find the next day.
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