Walking the Wall

Sometimes I think that my daughter and I are so very different, but the truth is, we are so very very much alike that we sometimes smack together like flint rocks that spark with the contact. But there are three things that we meld together on…reading, writing, and music. We were having another music night, sifting through my ipod and blasting songs with my husband–you have to love a thirteen year old girl who can belt out all the words of Kelly Clarkson’s Miss Independent, then turn around and sing a perfect duet with me of Come Sail Away by Styx. I remember holding on to her as a baby and singing All The Pretty Little Horses lullaby to her over and over, afraid to believe that she was healthy, afraid of waking up one morning to find it was just an illusion and she would start the exhausting cycle of sickness that was my son’s babyhood. "Black and grey, dapple and bay–all the pretty little horses," she loved it, and would ask for the horsey song when she got a bit older.

I’ve never wanted a daughter who was a meek and mild doormat, and I didn’t get one. I got a strong and beautiful girl, like a young oak sapling, she sways against the wind, but doesn’t break. I went into the kitchen in the middle of our music hunt and she had put on a song I had gotten for her, a new artist I had heard good things about, I couldn’t hear the words, but I could hear Katie yelling, "It’s mom, It’s mom, these words are mom’s!" She was laughing and dancing and after the first go round, she about had them memorized (one of her many gifts):

Artist: Hope Partlow
Song: Who We Are

Lyrics:

I don’t wanna put on my make-up
Just like every girl in a magazine
That’s not who I am when I wake up
That’s not who I wanna be

There’s so much more to me than meets the eye
In this life, I know one thing

It doesn’t really matter what u wear
Let the people stare
Cause we are who we are who we are who we are
It doesn’t really matter what car u drive
It’s good to be alive
Yeah, we are who we are who we are who we are
Who we are

Tell me baby, do I look like the real thing
Or would you change the color of my eyes?
Tell me why my television’s fillin’ me with lies

It doesn’t really matter what u wear
Let the people stare
Cause we are who we are who we are who we are
It doesn’t really matter what car you drive
It’s good to be alive
Yeah we are who we are who we are who we are
Who we are…

There is beauty on the inside
Yeah you’re beautiful, alright…

Oh it doesn’t really matter what u wear
Let the people stare
Cuz we are who we are who we are who we are
It doesn’t really matter what car you drive
It’s good to be alive
Yeah, we are who we are who we are who we are…

Doesn’t really matter what you wear, let the people stare

It’s good to be alive, good to be alive…

Doesn’t really matter what car you drive, it’s good to be alive

Yeah we are who we are who we are who we are

It’s good to be alive, good to be alive

Who we are

"There’s beauty on the inside" she repeated, laughing to her dad, "That’s just what mom says, she’s so right."

Did I mention my daughter actually hears what I say? I am shocked, and a little frightened by this. There is beauty on the inside and my daugther has it in spades. I guess there is as fourth, most important thing that my daughter and I share–love.  The color of her eyes are green, like mine, and no, I’d never change them–it is, indeed, good to be alive.