“Papa, will you read to me please?” My daughter asked my husband and
her father last night and it sent shivers down my spine. Making me realise how
quickly the carefreeness of summer had flown by and my children were signalling
that it was time to get back to their routines. The ones that make them feel
the most comforted. The ones that end their day with sharing.
I had been sitting at my computer trying to decide what to
write. What to do next when I heard those words. I listened as my husband hesitated.
Not seeing his face but feeling the surprise on his face that he had been
asked. Listening to him reply, “Sure, I’ll read to you.” I could feel my
daughter’s pleasure through the walls and imagined her snuggling in tight to
her papa so she could feel the sound of his voice reverberating through her.
Comforting her.
I got up from my computer and walked to my 13 year old son’s
room. Opened the door and walked in. He was lying on his stomach reading a book.
I hesitated for a moment not sure what to do. He did not turn but I asked hesitantly,
“Would you like me to read to you?” He turned and looked at me. Expression
confused. “If you want to,” he replied in that 13 year old way that those of us
who have adolescents know all too well. And at first I was going to get
indignant with him for his sullen reply but cast it aside because of the
feeling I had experienced hearing my 9 year old asking to be read to by her
father. So I persisted.
“Would you like me to read to you?” I asked again.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Did we finish the last book of Eragon?”I asked.
“No,” he replied.
“Should we finish or should we do something else?”
“No," he said, “I would like us to finish Eragon. I have wanted us
to finish it for a long time.”
“So why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I thought you were too busy,” he replied.
My heart nearly broke when he said that. Here I was thinking
he was thinking he was too old for me to read to him since his sullen moods had
escalated. His adolescent noncaring attitude sometimes pushing us apart. But
what he wanted more than ever, as did my daughter, was our routines of being
read to every night. Somehow we had stopped reading together during the summer
holiday. Everyone too busy doing their own thing. Off on our own. Not sharing
that end of day intimacy that opens the door for conversations that would not
otherwise happen.
I got the book off his desk and sat on the edge of his bed.
Close enough that we were touching but not too close to make him feel his space
had been invaded. And then I started reading to him. And got the biggest
surprise and lesson when I was least expecting it. On the first page of the
book, I read a line that was a reminder of a message I had forgotten all about.
A message that had been told to me last year during a Reiki session when I was
seeking direction and the phrase was, “Choose wisely.” Goosebumps appeared over
my arms as I read and reread that phrase several times. Explaining to my son
that it was a reminder to me that life is all about the choices we make. And
last night I had chosen wisely to read to my son and we both enjoyed every
minute of it. Neither of us wanting it to end. Snuggling together reading for
over a half hour. Re-establishing that intimacy that we had lost.
Sometimes our children are our angels. Sometimes they are
our demons. Always they are here to teach us more about ourselves and
themselves. Last night I learnt it is those simple routines that often mean the
most to our children. That bring them back into our fold. And I’m glad I took
heed of my message last night to choose wisely and I will carry that message with
me today and all the days to come because the most rewarding pleasures in life come
from the choices we make from the heart.
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