Thursday, February 17, 2011

That Mother-Daughter Magic

My mom and I have always had this sort of telepathic/psychic connection. 

No, really, it's true!

Exhibit A: This was when we still lived in Michigan, so I wasn't more than four. I had spent the day with Grandma Rose, my mom's mom. (I don't remember what we did, but for the sake of this post let's just assume that we baked a six-tier wedding cake for our own enjoyment and then graffiti-ed the side of the house with the leftover icing and sprinkles.) Driving home with my mom, she was quietly thinking about her mom. I guess Grandma had looked a little frail or tired that day, and it worried Mom. She hadn't said anything out loud, but I suddenly burst into tears with, "I don't want Grandma to die!" Weird, right?

Exhibit B: In second grade, my parents went on a ski trip. I stayed home. Mom thought that she should buy me a little something to make up for the crushing guilt of leaving me, her sweet little angel, behind show me how much she missed me. She selected this heart-shaped, decorative tape dispenser. It was pink with diagonal lines in shade of blue and purple. At the exact same time, I was in school coloring. Coloring what? A big heart that I had drawn diagonal lines on in shades of pink, purple, and blue.

Skip ahead a couple decades...

Exhibit C: Just today as Charlie and I were getting ready to leave Gramma's, I was sitting on the floor gathering our things. (OK, I was changing a diaper.) Apropos nothing, I almost blurted out, "No, I didn't watch 'American Idol' last night." Almost, meaning I didn't actually say anything. But what did Mom actually say? "Well, it's the second night of Hollywood Week on 'Idol.'" Half telepathic-half verbal conversation. Cool!

So you see, there's a pretty strong connection between the women in my family. Charlie is the first-born daughter of a first-born daughter to a first-born daughter. I already feel that deep, almost vibrating pull between us. 

Like last night while I was snuggling her to sleep. 

The room was dark and quiet, but she was still awake. It was one of those perfect moments where I could see a little glimpse into our future, one where we whisper to each other about things like the best parts of our days after we read our favorite bedtime stories. I was pretty sure that Charlie could feel that magic connection, that she could sense something profound in the room.

And then she farted.


  1. I farted at the exact same moment -- It IS generational!

  2. Oh -- And it was only a four-tier cake.


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