She would cut our hair and fry donuts. She would just be in our house.
My father was sometimes annoyed by it. Their friendship, under the same roof as our family. But life felt fuller when she was around. And I got to see a more complete version of my mom, beyond parenthood and marriage.
Now my own daughter is a witness.
She hears us laughing on speaker phone.
She’s seen us sitting in comfortable silence in sweats on the couch.
She’s seen us dressed up for dinner.
Maybe she’s overheard us talking about the boys we used to like, the mistakes we’ve made.
And politics. And social issues.
She’s likely overheard us talking about everything, because nothing is off limits between us.
If she were to creep down the stairs in the middle of the night, she may even see one of us crying on the couch while the other listens. Over marriage, family, careers, the uncertainty of finances, and the inescapability of death.
My daughter has been a witness to this friendship.
And one of the most important things I’ll ever teach her, is how to be a friend.
Credit: I’m That Wife: Marriage & Motherhood
