My youngest turned 28 years old today.
This is where you become shocked that I could have a 28-year-old child not to mention a 30-year-old child. Her birthday made me nostalgic, so I was thinking about my anxiety during my early years as a parent. Her mother and I were broke but rich in family. Our girls were so cute and so smart (they still are btw) we were obviously overwhelmed with pride. Over the last 30 years, I delightfully have been super impressed by both of them for the way they have handled adversity. They are tough kids. Both have grit that reveals itself in different ways but resilience is a common trait amongst them. I always wanted my kids to be significant more than successful. I mean successful is a hope, but I never considered it a goal. I was more focused on them engaging the world with a strong sense of their self-worth. They both value themselves above the social pressures that plague our culture.
Most of all I have a tremendous amount of respect for my girls because they are their own people. Authentic and opinionated, graceful and grounded but most of all they are nice people. Two people that you enjoy spending time with and consider their interactions a series of positive feel good take aways. Not sure how they do it through loss, divorce and disappointment but my girls fight the current righting their ship even when their ship capsizes. They pop up and paddle in the right direction. I am hoping to avoid meddling with the recipe that they have written out for themselves.
At their ages, I do more coaching than parenting. But my coaching remains the same for them regardless of how old they get, it’s that old Shakespeare line from Hamlet, “to thine own self be true.”
Albert R. Hartley
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