‘Mummy, can you see anything in my eye?’
I checked my 11 year old’s eye and all was fine but I was left shaken because I had had a revelation. One of those oh-so-obvious things that you don’t have to think about it. Something that just is. But for me this thought was astounding because, whilst I may have always known it, I had never truly appreciated it.
The flash of knowledge was that I was “Mummy”: fixer, protector, nourisher. After years and years of self-doubt I was assured and confident that I would do everything I could possibly for this one person. She made me confident. For her I would not contemplate failure, fear was pushed aside, and this persona was alien to the normal everyday me.
While I struggled daily to make myself fit into this responsible mould, to my daughter it was the foundation on which her world rested. Her father and I were her safety, security, the one constant she took with her into the unknown future. We were her shield and her fortress.
Such revelations require a stiff drink. I’ll have one after I’ve read her another story and slayed a dragon or two.