The Mirror Of Generational Reflection
A Mother and Daughter’s Shared Experience.
When my youngest was four years old, I asked her to get water. She said, “You need water?” And then spit on me.
In that split second, she realized what she meant to be funny was grossly not funny, and she was so torn between feeling sorry and guilty that she covered her face and started crying. The sobs were a mixture of fear, guilt, and the apprehension of the unknown.
It all happened so fast that I didn’t even get time to react. I understood her turmoil though. I was happy she understood that it was disrespectful to spit and it was not funny. But she wasn’t sure how to apologize, so she cried.
Her sister was mad on my behalf and told her to stop crying so loud, so I had to tell her sister that she was crying because she was feeling bad so to back off for now. And then I let my youngest know it was okay and I forgave her. A very tight hug was awarded to me while her tears and snot made my shoulders wet.
All she wanted was validation.
My whole childhood flashed in front of my eyes. I have done the same thing. Not spitting of course, but something like that.
My mom was taking a nap on the floor (because floors are cooler on hot summer days in India), and we sisters were sitting on the bed watching TV. While I was trying to get off the bed, I had forgotten that she was sleeping there. She was waking up at the exact same time that I was stepping down, and somehow I kicked her face. She fainted right there.
We sisters were so scared. Just then my aunt called on the phone, and we asked how to revive her, and she said to put water, put a fan near her face, till she came around. She did finally come around and was okay. She told us to not tell our dad and then went on her own way to do chores.
I cried the whole day feeling miserable and guilty. Although my mom forgave us, sisters, even before we asked for forgiveness, the validation that we sought was not there. We had to assume that it was okay.
It messed with my head… for a very very long time.
Seeing my youngest torn like that on that day, took me back to all those years. I saw myself in her, crying, sobbing, wanting it to go away.
I sat with my daughter letting her know that I understood she meant it to be funny but I also appreciated that she understood that it is not. She came a couple of times that night, and hugged me, her eyes giving away a lot of what she was feeling, and I kept assuring her it was okay.
I live my childhood again through her because she is me and I am her. Now I get to validate myself.