Meeting Joy for the first time
by Lucy Watkins
All these
years, you’ve been missing. I haven’t
been able to find you. I look for you on
every journey. No matter where I am or what I
do, I am always looking for you; hoping to catch a glimpse of your approval.
I
think I’m finally beginning to understand you. I
think I know who you are. For the first time
in my life, I think I know you. I know the
woman you were because of the woman I’ve become.
I know the woman I’m becoming because of the woman you were.
I met
you the other day while Joy Lynn was being silly and playing instead of getting dressed. You were the one yelling at Joy Lynn that we
didn’t have time for silliness when I was in a hurry to get out of the house.
I met
you when Shirlee bit me while nursing. You
were the one who squealed out in pain and frustration just before popping her on the
bottom. You were disappointed and saddened by
your immediate reaction.
I met you in
the living room after I cleaned up the girls’ toys.
You were the one who lost it when they pulled everything out to play. You were the one who yelled at them to clean up
the mess and you were the one who threw the blocks back into the wagon.
I met
you the other night when, for no apparent reason, Joy Lynn came up and gave me a kiss. You were the one who hugged her and told her you
loved her.
I met you
when I was upset about Mary Helen’s disrespectful approach and refusal to acknowledge
her inappropriate expressions of anger. You
were the one who cried because we just can’t seem to get along.
I met
you when Shirlee gave me her first kiss. You
were the one kissing her back and wiping your face.
I met
you when Joy Lynn told her first “knock knock” joke. You were the one laughing out loud and proud that
she made up the joke all by herself.
I met
you the other night in bed. You were the one
hugging Joy Lynn and Shirlee tightly to your chest wishing the moment would never end.
I met
you the other night as I sat, thinking about all the mistakes I’ve made as a mother. You were the one reminding me that I started from
scratch.
We met
the other afternoon after I talked to Joy Lynn about being gentle with her friends. You were the one telling me, “Good job, Lucy.”
I met
you when I saw the glimmer in Dad’s eyes as he watched Joy Lynn run up to him to give
and receive a hello hug. You were the one
beaming with pride and smiling in delight.
I felt
you as I looked at the distant hills dreaming of the loving family that never was. You were the one sending images of smiling faces
from the heavens and reminders that Barry and I have created our own loving family.
Here you are
again listening to Joy Lynn say the alphabet with a loud and clear “l, m, n, o, p”. You are once again thinking about my happiness and
my struggle. You hope I will be able to see
your face in her face, hear your voice in her voice, feel your love in her touch, and
know, without a doubt, that your love for me is as endless and deep as my love for her.
You are
still hoping I will open my eyes, my heart, and my mind so that you can come in and make a
home.
Nice
to finally meet you, mom.
In loving
memory of my mother, Joy Parker
April 17,
1921- Dec. 2, 1974
I’m
finally smart enough to give you the respect you deserve.
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