NdukuOutLoud

Reflections on the families we build and the ones we imagined.

They say one of the key indicators of a healthy child – a child that’s developing as they ‘should’ at age four and above,- is their ability to play alone. To pretend play , make up imaginary friends, navigate imaginary scenarios. Create problems that they later solve. That the ability to engage in deep symbolic play is a sign that they are secure- both a developmental milestone and proof of an external environment that supports the play.

Mine can do that for hours on end. Today being a perfect example. I guess I am doing a good job?

It should feel that way. But instead, I am worried.

As I was watching her today, I started wondering if it is proper development or if she has made peace with the loneliness. With our family as it is. If she has welcomed and made room for the yearning- and accepted it as just that- like I have.

Most of what she might wish for in a family, she has imagined. She has seen glimpses and hears from friends, but no lasting first hand experience of it. Has she given up on the dreams?

Sometimes she asks. But not as often as before. And it’s not as emotional as it used to be. It sometimes looks and sounds like she had forgotten, than suddenly something happens, and she asks again about why our family is not like the rest and if it will ever be. And most times I have answers. I give them calmly, then carry the emotional labour of it all later- if at all.

I feel for her. Because I know how good it can get. How great it could be. And sometimes it feels like I took that away from her and now she’s finally coming to terms with the situation.

It should feel like a win. Because maybe it’s an indicator that she has enough love all around her. So much so that the wanting has been pushed away. And yet, it doesn’t.

I wonder if indeed she has given up… does that then mean that these are the standards of love I’ve set for her. That it doesn’t always stay? That sometimes people don’t fight for it hard enough? That the ones we love don’t always stick around? I know, logically, that is the reality of life. But I feel like it is better to find out later, not go out into the world knowing that’s the way things are.

I have tried to surround her with as much love as I possibly can- as I am lucky to have family and friends that love her and me in ways I could never fully appreciate. But every now and then, I am reminded that it might never be enough. That she is learning to live with less than she deserves.

Then, she found me watching her.

She stopped her game, looked at me, and smiled. A real, bright, unburdened smile.

And for a second, the spiral stopped.

I realized that while I am busy mourning the family she doesn’t have, she is busy finding joy in the one she does. I am so worried about the “standards” I am setting, but maybe the standard isn’t about who stays or who leaves. Maybe the standard is the simple, radical act of being fully present with the people who are currently in the room.

And that a home is made of the people who show up, not the ones who didn’t.