Waiting to be Noticed

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Who is this young girl, with her haughty attitude and unwillingness to listen? Where does this anger and offensiveness come from? Have I done something to push her to her limits, in my awkwardness of mothering and expression of my love?

I have lost the road map to her heart and oh how I have searched high and low, but cannot seem to find it. A once well trotted path has become a vast new world all between me and her.

Her.

How can someone close become a stranger? Strangers are warned against, they are not supposed to be daughters. What are her likes? What is she thinking? Did she have a good day? Did she laugh or did she cry? And those allowed to share in her day, were they aware of how blessed they were?

As invisible as the wind blowing through my hair, as invisible as the oxygen that fills my lungs, as invisible as the God who created me, is as invisible as I have become to her. As I kiss her, as I smile, as I speak to her, my efforts hit her wall of frustration and go no further. She doesn’t seem to notice my existence past the resemblance of a pesky fly. If she did I am sure she would feel my overwhelming need to be welcomed into her world. And she would…welcome me.

Today, I may not know her and she may not see me, but I rest in the fact that, once, she lived within me, just below my heart, a being within my being, feeding from me. She is of me and I will find her again.

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