It has been a celebratory week in the Boudoir. I am a Good Mother. I have successfully raised my offspring to adulthood, hale, hearty and whole.
There has been champagne, cake, balloons, cards, presents and parties. There has also been much reflection upon times past, the transition from 1989 to 2010, the differences between who we were then and the people we are now.
For the past 21 years I have been largely, sometimes wholly, focused on my daughter. She is the magnetic north to which my internal compass always swings. While I will always need to know that she is OK before I can be I know that the next 21 years will inevitably bring a distancing. She will have her own home, her own priorities, her own magnetic north. I will no longer know every little detail of her life from what she had for tea to whether she is still in the bath. This is right and natural and means I have done my job. I have not raised a social inadequate, hurrah!
I would be lying, though, if I said I didn't feel a nostalgic pang or two when I look at those gappy-toothed smiles in school photos past. When did this little girl become the confident, funny, beautiful young woman who strides through life in what looks suspiciously like my shoes? My work here is done. What next?