Blog - Nourish and Nest – Tagged "Notes to my daughters"

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Notes to my daughters - Awe and Wonder



To my daughters..

You may remember finding me, from time to time, staring at the moon. Maybe you never noticed or you did but never wondered why. Or perhaps it is something you now do too and you understand without me having to say a word. 
But if explanation is required, it is a simple one. When it is dark and I am in need of a reflective moment or I desire to escape some chaos; internal or external, it is what I like to do. 
I have stilled myself countless times before that ancient lunar presence, usually at the kitchen bench, often on our back step, but also from hotel windows, the occasional  beach and other assorted locales near and far. 
I hope it never ceases to burst fresh awe and wonder inside of me. 
Especially when I ponder that it existed long before me and will remain long after you. That it is the same moon that every human on our earth looks upon, the same moon that your great grandmothers and great great grandmothers must have glanced at from time to time too. 
When the day has been long and my troubles feel heavy, I sometimes take a moment to pause on our back step, stare at the moon and think about those women. I think about the highlights and heartbreaks that they lived through and in spite of. The big and small legacies that linger in my memories of them and the stories told and re-told. 

My girls, never forget the women who have gone before you. They overcame hard things, and came out the other side of incredibly dark times with hope for the future.. my darling girls, please know that you can too, even when it doesn’t feel like it. 

My reflective moments before the moon give me, and my current concerns, perspective. I am strengthened by the reminder of the much greater story that I am woven into. I feel at once just to be a tiny speck amongst it all, and yet not alone. That's why your Mama stops to stare at the moon, and perhaps why you do too.

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Notes to my daughters

In 2017, I started writing notes to my three daughters.
Lately, I have felt that I should be brave and share some of them in this space.

So, here we go. I will begin with the intro to the first note I ever wrote them. I was in Bali for my sister-in-law's wedding. My three daughters, Savannah, Alexis and Lucia, were aged 10, 7 and 4 at the time. It was the middle of the night, my body was restless and my mind was whirling. So, I tiptoed out of the room we were all sharing, sat outside and let what was in my mind pour out onto the page.

I penned these notes semi-regularly for a while and then they fell to the wayside. In fact, I forgot about them all together until I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the beginning of 2019. It was a reminder that life is unpredictable and I started writing these notes to them again. 

Maybe I will change my mind and take them down, maybe I will leave them here.. we’ll see! But for now, here’s to being brave...  

 

 

August 2017

To my daughters

Ideally, you will know me until I have seen decade come and decade go. Until the accumulation of all my smiles and frowns are deeply etched upon the weathered canvas of my face. Until your babes know well the embrace of my arms and their chubby faces have endured my prolific kisses. Ideally, these notes will not be read by you. They will be heard, discussed, fleshed out and even disagreed with, in real-life conversations. Perhaps with a glass of wine into the wee hours, under a balmy night sky or in front of a warm hearth.

The consideration of any other option pains me to the depths of my Mama heart.

And yet, I have witnessed the heartbreak of what it looks like when 'ideally..' is cut tragically short and I cherish each and every sunrise and sunset too much to think that a long life is a bonafide guarantee. And so, the seed of such a dark and late-night thought is what births these notes. 

From me to you.

Because I am wise? No. But, because I'm your mother. And there are things I want you to know.

The truth is that the vast majority of these 'notes' are things that you will know, perhaps quite well. And yet I want you to know them from me. Perhaps this will be rambling and messy. Perhaps I will find a way to form it into something coherent and sequential. Either way, it will be shared and you will know.

 

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