Like most parents, I had this preconceived notion that I would probably produce "Gap" Kids. You know, the kind that gravitate toward navy blue plaid skirts, button-down collared oxford shirts, knee socks and Bass loafers with no visible scuffs. I figured my kids would pop out in preppy mode.I should have known when Katie popped out and refused to follow the rarely mentioned, but essential rule that she would actually breathe upon arrival in the delivery room, well, after I got over the terror of her delivery room prank, that I was in for an interesting adventure. I mean, she was two weeks late, and you would think, at the very least, she wuold have the decency to do the one thing that is expected of every baby that crosses the great divide between inutero and insanity; Was it really too much to ask that she just...breathe?
But that would set the tone. Katie has always done things her way. It made no difference to her if I had been waiting for 9 long months to hold her and do all that stuff the baby books alluded to. Katie had her own ideas - right from the start. In a rare display of consistency, she has remained faithful to that tenent. She has strong ideas and principles and she's not afraid to defend them.
My daughter easily mastered the rudimentary skill of breathing, but she has taken my breath away on more than a few occasions in the finest way possible. Mostly, I'm just in awe of her resolve, her powerful presence and the confidence with which she lives her life. Laid-back is not an adjective I would ever use were I asked to describe my daughter. There simply aren't enough descriptives.
Yesterday at work, I walked in to find several of my coworkers huddled around the computer monitor. Did something happen? Was there breaking news? What was the object of everyone's attention? As it turned out, one of Katie's friends had pulled up Katie's "My Space" site and, apparently, Katie had uploaded some new photos. Some I had seen before, but there were a couple that were new to me.
There was Katie - staring back from the monitor. It was a beautiful photograph and I finally understood the reason for their gaze. Katie works part-time at the same place I do, though she has been with the same group for four years. This is her territory, her turf and although I work there full-time, much to our collective chagrin, Katie can run that place with her eyes closed and both hands tied behind her back. She knows what I'm looking for before I ever ask for it. I may put in more hours than she does, but there's no doubt in anyone's mind that she's the brains behind the operation.I am grateful for my job and I've learned quite a lot. It couldn't have come into my life at a better time and it is because of the kindness of a dear friend that I am there at all. But it's hardly career stuff. Truth is, I'd rather be writing. However, sometimes economics rears it's ugly, uninvited head and wouldn't you just know I've grown accustomed to having a roof over my head and, after five years, I kind of love my house. I have never lived in the same place five years, so somehow it's become home. Given that my mortgage company expects to be paid every month, Dan and I have had to pool our resources for those silly little essentials like food, shelter, petrol and insurance. Of course, I only ask him about six times a week if he can promise me that we might be in a position where I could write full-time, next year. Lovely man that he is, he always smiles and says "Absolutely. Of course you will. This is just temporary.". He realizes that this answer will satisfy me for a few hours, until I ask him yet again.
Can't blame a girl for trying.
In the meantime, I work in the world according to Katie. Almost imperceptibly, as we (well, she, not me) grow older, I feel our relationship moving more toward that of trusted friends, and perhaps what we have between us has less to do with authority - though, to be perfectly honest, I think any position of authority I might have imagined was more illusion than fact - something that Katie allowed me to feel.
From early childhood on, my no-nonsense daughter had her own ideas about how things should be. More often than not, she was exactly right. Maybe I managed to nudge her in the right direction, and talk her onto an airplane or two - which was fortunate and practical because, much as we might have wanted to, we couldn't stay in France forever.
At 22, barely 5 feet tall and maybe 108 lbs., Katie has grown into a beautiful, dazzling young lady. So lovely, in fact, that her co-workers and friends stop in their tracks to closely examine her photos on a computer at work. Of course, I had to go along with the consensus. My daughter is exquisite, both physically and maybe even more incredible in terms of intelligence and that force of a true spirit that seems to cast a glow on things both internal and external.
My daughter is a lover of art, writing, all things history, European and otherwise, music, sociology, psychology and philosophy. She loves exchanging ideas but she doesn’t like plugging in formulas or memorizing math computations. Math just isn’t her bag. She hates air travel as well, but she doesn’t all that to hinder her desire to discover the world. Though only 22 years old, she’s already visited France, the UK and Ireland, where she was installed as an au pair and lived with a wonderful family and their three children. It was a great experience and the opportunity to live with an Irish family and work within a new culture appealed to Katie on so many levels.
Katie has been my anchor. She has told me that Justin's not nearly as "out there" as many of her friends near the same age. She tells me his actions and decisions are pretty typical. She looks me straight in the eyes, especially when I feel most addled, and says, "Mom, Justin is going to be just fine. You'll see.". And of course, I cling to those words and her prediction. Knowing Katie, I think if she truly were concerned, as close as she and her brother are, she would shoot straight with me. At least, I'd like to think so.
The bond she shares with Justin runs deep and they truly are each other's best friends. It pleases me, this close relationship they share, and makes me wonder what it would have been like had my sister lived, but of course it could never have been quite the same. There's only 3 years and 3 months that separate Katie and Justin - and there were ten years between my sister and me. I'd still have loved to have had a sibling or two. Sometimes it's so puzzling to me when I hear of people who say they "no longer communicate" or have nothing to do with their sisters and/or brothers. I find that so sad. What could be so horrible that you couldn't work through it and get on with the fun of being siblings and sharing funny stories about what a dysfunctional childhood you had? Oh well, there's a lot I don't understand.
On August 26th, 1983, I was presented with a beautiful 6 lb., 14 ounce daughter and gosh I've loved helping her grow up, just as she's helped me grow up on so many occasions. Katie didn't turn out to be The Gap kid I always imagined. She's way too quirky for that cookie-cutter nonsense. Me? My closet could have a Gap sign hung on it because The Gap is well-represented, as are Doc Martens of every shade and style.
I go out of my way these days to avoid my favorite store because it's just too hard to peer through the windows and imagine what it used to be like wandering the aisles and touching the t-shirts in all of those luscious colors. Fortunately, most of what they sell is pretty timeless (i.e., boring), so at the very least, no worries about being "trendy", but then again, I never was. I hope someday I can visit and buy a few things, guilt-free. Until then, I have only to walk to my closet and, if I try really hard, I can simply pretend I'm in a fitting room with a lot of familiar looking clothes. For now, it's more important that I make sure I have a closet and a house to shelter my collection. You know, that dreary part of being an adult that requires one to have priorities. :-)
I guess this is my way of saying a huge thanks to Katie for keeping it real and never allowing life to get boring. I guess it's just like in the song James Taylor sings,
Once you tell somebody the way that you feel
You can feel it beginning to ease.
I guess it's true what they say about the sticky wheel,
Always getting the grease.
I know it sometimes seems as if I'm all caught up in trying to figure what's going on with Justin and that's because, well, I kind of am! I can remember few times you've been the "sticky wheel" so there you go - that's why you haven't received any grease, but please accept my gratitude for being everything I could possibly want in a daughter - and please feel free to keep reminding me that it's all going to be just fine.
I love you tons. We all do, more than you will ever know.
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