Downs With Ups

Poppet was beside me in bed last night. It had been a tiring day involving a long drive into the countryside, the excitement of staying in a hotel and eating out. We were away for the weekend, visiting a large country city for Poppet’s regional swimming competition.

Assuming my regular sleeping position, I lay on my side facing her, my right hand resting on the pillow before my face. I slowly began to drift into sleep, feeling completely at peace with my daughter beside me. We sleep together sometimes at home, especially when my partner works late. The comfort of being so close to Poppet more than outweighs being kept awake by her sleep-induced noises and wriggling. (I suspect she would agree with this, as I am prone to occasional snoring and wriggling myself apparently.)

My slumber however was soon disturbed, as I felt a gentle touch on my ‘pinky’. I then felt the touch on my ring finger. Poppet was slowly and softly stroking each of my fingers. She shifted slightly then began to stroke my face with her hand. In the dim light of the room, I sensed she was exploring my face by touch. I kept my eyes closed enjoying my daughter’s tenderness and intrigue. Moments passed then I slowly opened my eyes. There she was gazing down at me.

“I love you,” she said and reached over to hug me.

Feeling overwhelmed, I replied, “That makes me feel very special Poppet. Thank you. I love you too.”

“Good night,” she whispered sleepily.

Drawing away, she lay down once more and closed her eyes, Teddy Bear now held to her chest. How lovely, I thought. Such pure emotion. Lying there, I listened to Poppet’s breathing, steady and slow as she slept. This was such a rare occasion.

The busy-ness of each day often interferes with such opportunities for tenderness. That together with teenage hormones, where one minute I’m the bee’s knees, the next I’m a bother or worse, a hard task master, simply distracts us from being close.

It’s tricky keeping up with Poppet’s emotional state at the moment. I need to remember that it’s tricky for her too, this juggling of emotions, which helps me to remain patient when encountering my sometimes snarling or resistant daughter. In this respect, Poppet is no different to any other teenage girl, I suppose.

Moments like last night are special because they are rare. I’ll hold on to this the next time I see my daughter’s back as she storms off in a huff. I’ll remember how touched I was by my daughter’s ability to love so adoringly, so unashamedly and so completely and how quite overcome I was, with the power of love.