Parenting 101

My Daughter/Myself

img_6739When we walked into daycare, Lily first came to me to pick her up; then, she looked to Marissa, and reached out her arms.

In less than a minute, the two were best friends.

My freshman year at NYU, I stood on the corner of 11th street and 3rd avenue. I was getting ready for an evening walk to campus and – if I’m honest with myself – I was still a little scared of doing the walk alone.

This girl exited the dorm behind me.

She had about a million butterfly clips in her 1in hair; and when I made eye contact, she smiled back at me.

This may not mean much to you as you read this.

But, I moved to New York City at the age of 18 from a tiny town in East Texas. So far, my experience in New York had been that if you made eye contact with someone, they were either going to ask you for money or follow you home and murder you.

I said, to this stranger who looked like a brunette Buffy the Vampire Slayer,

“Hey. I’m Holly. Are you going to campus, too? Maybe we could walk together?”

That was almost 17 years ago now.

So, when my daughter reached out her hand for Marissa to walk her to the car today after knowing her for less than five minutes, I couldn’t be surprised.

Because 17 years of walking together is an awful lot. She must have sensed what I did all those years ago when I was alone, young and vulnerable on a New York Street corner. This is someone who will go with you. This is someone to be loved.

Here’s to friendship. And the kind of magic that can take two girls from strangers to family in the span of one single question.

Wisconsin is not ready.



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