Mama, Read to Me!
Children’s books nest in the heart and live on through generations
Google Photos periodically tries to get a handle on who’s who in my photo collection. But one recent request for identity confirmation broke me up. At first blush, these five-year old girls could indeed be one and the same:
And yet, one was born in 1988 and the other in 1964. One is my daughter Taylor and the other is me. And even though Taylor says she hears my voice coming out of her mouth more and more, and her husband has taken to chidingly calling her “Mary” at times, I spent most of her life in tune with the many ways we were different as mother and daughter.
But that all started to change in the last few years . . .
Childish mama dreams
As a young expectant mother, I assumed my daughter would be a mini-me. I was a quiet child, baby-of-the-family, who learned to charm and please to get along. Taylor, the firstborn in our little family, was a force. She set every agenda (which is still true today). She was quite conversant with the word no as a complete sentence (also still 100% accurate). She was willful where I was not, a leader where I tended to follow.
I ridiculously dreamed of a docile, “nice,” obedient child when I was pregnant with my daughter. What I got in the powerful package of Taylor was infinitely better, with one added bonus - she loved to read picture books just like her mother. Although our personalities diverged in numerous ways, we always loved reading together.
And just when I learned to celebrate our differences . . .
Fast forward a few decades to Taylor’s marriage last year. Shades of her mother started to emerge, as in the wedding-to-do Post-its covering her wall and bridal shower thank you notes that read like novellas. She retained, however, so many of her beautiful qualities, from her clear vision of what she wanted for her big day to belting out lyrics to the music she loves at the reception (her girl Britney, of course, NSYNC’s Bye! Bye! Bye! . . . )
But the real “my daughter, my self” moment happened while strolling the streets of the Upper West Side of Manhattan last fall, shortly after Taylor informed me she was pregnant. Whenever I visit her in the Big Apple, I make a point to check out the Strand Book Store on 82nd and Columbus. It’s usually my personal thing, just something I do on my own.
“Mom, can I come with you to the book store today so we can look for books for the baby?” Taylor asked, and my eyes instantly welled up. Her excitement as she picked up one book after another, exclaiming, “I loved this book when you read it to me!” is something I’ll never forget.
We left the store that day with lighter wallets, heavier bookbags, fuller hearts, and dreams about reading to the baby to come.
Taylor’s sweet son Hudson was born in April, and Taylor called recently to share something with me. “Mom, I am so embarrassed! I read I’ll Love You Forever to Hudson today, and I cried!”
Well, I’m guessing you know what Taylor’s mama did when she heard her say that . . .
Tears. I love this, and I love you. ♥️