In Which My Daughter Becomes Me


After my sister and I drove my parents to the brink of insanity with our bickering, my parents finished the basement and moved her downstairs, and I had my very own bedroom in the northwest corner of the farmhouse. From then until I moved out of the house, the double bed was shoved into the corner, and most nights I spent a lot of time looking at the Big Dipper, the North Star, and Cassiopeia, having long conversations with God and myself until at last I fell asleep. Sometimes I woke up with the first blush of dawn on my face, the breeze blowing across the north field to cool me.

I miss those days.

Since Julianna got her new bed, she’s discovered the joy I once knew. I don’t think her view is nearly as inspiring–rows and rows of taupe houses and streetlights simply don’t compare–but when we come back from running in the morning, we’ll often see a heart-shaped face resting on a chubby arm, and we get a smile and a “haaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii!”

Two nights ago, we came upstairs to go to bed and discovered this.

My darling girl. So often I have no idea what is going on in that little head of yours. And yet here is the proof that you are indeed your mother’s daughter.

7 thoughts on “In Which My Daughter Becomes Me

  1. Awww. That is precious. I used to love opening my bedroom windows on spring days. The smell of a cool breeze and a metal window screen still charms me.

  2. I remember looking out my Grandmother’s window at night in summer, seeing the trees silhouetted against the sky and hearing the cicadas sing. Barking dogs echoed every now and then in the neighborhood. It’s great that Julianna will have precious memories of looking out the window at night as you do.

  3. The houses we have purchased have all had amazing windows. I can look outside for many hours. It calms my mind and soothes the soul.
    Thank you for sharing your daughter with us!

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