The Wild In Me

I have an old friend back in New York that I fell out of touch with years and years ago and I search for her on-line every once in a while, hoping she'll magically appear on Facebook.  She was like a little pixie, clever, and way cooler than I could ever hope to be.  I do, however, come across her writings and musings on motherhood and am always transported.  I hope I'm not crossing the line by sharing this passage of one of her pieces I happened upon on another blog.  As a mother, I can so relate.  

My three year-old can wink. She has been able to do it for months now. Popeye gave her the idea, but her timing is all her own. I hear something shatter in the bathroom and round the corner in time to watch the last of my limited edition Chanel polish run thick and black like blood across white tiles. She winks at me and I’m rendered speechless. I am the law but she makes me a partner in her crimes and, secretly, I’m grateful for the invitation.

Upon the birth of her son, Laura Nyro, wrote “I don’t want to crush the wilderness in you, child, or the wild that’s in me. How do we keep them both alive?” As a mother, your world shrinky-dinks down to only the safest of bets but when my daughter winks, I remember rolling the dice. I remember the wild that’s in me.