Submerging myself in the cool water, a rush of chill momentarily steals my breath away. I swim a few strokes and then quickly turn back. As I break the surface, my daughter, Lily, beams at me with pure joy.
“See,” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement. “It’s incredible, right? I absolutely love this!” She throws her head back, arms raised high, and shouts, “I LOVE THIS!!!”
“It’s wonderful,” I respond, and she dives into me for an exuberant hug that inevitably pulls us both under the water.
We play a game of follow the leader along the shoreline of Lake Tahoe, with her gliding just ahead of me. I can’t help but marvel at the remarkable young girl she is becoming.
Every so often, she pauses to point out a fish, an interesting rock, or a log that resembles an eye. The joy is evident on both our faces.
“I love you,” she says as we take a break to catch our breath. The authenticity of her words radiates from her, and it warms my heart.
For so long, I’ve yearned to see her embrace her adventurous spirit, to release her fears, and to let life unfold before her. Witnessing her growth fills me with uncontainable glee.
My girl. How I cherish you.
For years, I have questioned my abilities as a mother, particularly in nurturing her unique spirit. I have dreams for her, yet often feel ill-equipped to help her realize them.
I worry when I see her fear spiders, heights, or talking to strangers. I worry that I have somehow failed her. The thought of raising a confident, fearless girl seems to slip further from my grasp, stirring doubts and fears within me.
Am I setting a positive example? Am I pushing her too hard or not enough? Does she feel accepted? Am I imposing my desires on her? Does she feel loved? It all feels overwhelming, and I don’t want to fail her. She deserves the best of me, yet I falter.
I often find myself uncertain of the right approach.