Did you ever envision your little girl would live in a world of ballet slippers—in a world of pink, performing beautiful dances throughout her childhood?
Did you imagine her as a mirror image of you—losing herself in the world of Barbies, of dolls and make-believe?
Or maybe you didn’t out much stock into expectations. Maybe you simply hoped for the health and happiness of your little girl—just the freedom to live and to be.
Did you worry when your little girl chose to fill her days with dirt and magical adventures, instead of tea parties and dress up?
Were you joyful when you watched her devour books, each time losing herself more and more in the world of literacy wonder?
As you watched her swim in canals, and snorkel through make-believe treasure, did you wonder who she would become?
Was it with pride or apprehension that you watched her blossom into her own unique self? Did you worry when she chose the path less traveled—the road less known—with ease?
I imagine your heart must have beat a little faster, knowing that your little girl rafted river-rapids, climbed mountains and jumped out of airplanes.
Were there moments you had to force yourself to bury your fear and simply allow her the freedom to run wild, run free?
Did you wish you could protect her from others’ scorn—perhaps wishing she was more realistic and less of a dreamer?
Did you ever hope she would turn out “normal?”
The path was easy for us—the wild ones—because we had mothers like you.
We had mothers who never tried to shape us or change us. We had mothers who encouraged us to follow our own path and to dance to our own beat.
You, as a mother, may be quite “normal”—and not fully understand your “wild and free” daughter. You may not share her love for crystals, yoga or meditation, and you may be more conservative and less—well, weird.
Yet your heart lies with hers, as it was you who gave her the courage to be this free.
It was your understanding—albeit at times worried guidance—that helped her blossom into the weird, wild woman she is today.
We wild ones rely on karma. We pay attention to the moon and lose ourselves in yoga. We jump out of planes, and we dive with sharks.
We are the cause for you rolling your eyes, because we experiment with healing crystals, or because we choose to awaken at five o’clock in the morning for yoga.
But throughout all these things we do—however “weird” or “wild”—remember we love you.
Remember that although we may differ in many ways, our best traits—our tolerance for others, our acceptance of all and our self-confidence in who we are—all came from you.
So, although you still may complain about my smudging, Mom—thank you for accepting me as the “weirdo” I am.
What it Means to Love a Wild-Hearted Woman.
Author: Michele Genzardi
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Photo: Flickr/Stuart Richards
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