It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I think my children (and I include my "after-market" sons), men and woman now, are pretty darned special people. Loving, industrious, funny, generous, kind, loyal, and many more adjectives that make them the kind of people I like to know and am proud to call my friends. I don't live in their pockets and they don't hover over me. It could be days, weeks or months between phone calls and months or years between visits. It's not for lack of caring, it's because life interferes and there are time constraints on us all.
In a family of men, it's natural that the only two females would develop a particular bond (over time; the teenage years don't count). When my first child, my daughter, was born, I didn't think I could ever love another child as much as I did her. Of course, I thought that when each of the boys was born, too. I found that the heart has an infinite capacity for expansion and when I say to any or all, "I love you with all my heart," it is absolutely true.
On Sunday Deb gave me a wrapped gift and asked me not to open it until after everyone had gone. I could tell it was a book and wondered about the secrecy. After waving the last goodbye and picking a few weeds on the way back to the house, the first thing I did was open the package and flipped through what I thought were blank pages. I thought it was a journal like the many I've filled over the years. It is a journal, but like no other. I've asked permission to share the concept, but will never share the contents. It is a Mother and Daughter Traveling Journal. Deb made the first entry last December and several others followed. The idea is this: it is an opportunity for us to write down particular memories, intimate feelings, worries, day-to-day stuff; anything and/or everything that comes to mind that we might want to share only with each other. The book will be handed over to the other for the same kind of entries until the next face-to-face contact, traveling back and forth. It doesn't surprise me that my daughter would conceive such a thoughtful, personal project. It's just the way she is. Wouldn't it be grand for other mothers and daughters to adopt the idea?