Got a message from a friend. There is a teenage member of her family who is giving her mother a very hard time, the father has left the picture, and there was a reaching out for support.
I asked re favorite colors….
And as I sat knitting tonight, trying to get that silk shawl out of the way because there’s a few more people now that I need to get to work for after this, I remembered. I would likely not have remembered that my sister said it but I will never forget that my daughter did.
My mom always said that my oldest sister was an easy teenager to raise. I mentioned that to Marian once and she said that when she got too mad at the world or at Mom she would retreat into the bathroom and soak in a long, hot, luxurious bath. Time alone. (As the fourth kid of six, I could add, hogging the bathroom, making the rest of us go to the one downstairs, silently ruling the roost. Except that I don’t remember it at all so clearly I wasn’t too traumatized.)
I can just picture the whimsy of the occasional splash, observing the droplets as they fell, adding more hot as the water gradually cooled, keeping it going. She would always come out feeling all was well with the world now.
My girls were teens when she told me that and I just, y’know, happened to mention it to them.
You never know if your kids are listening, but there was this one day that my daughter emerged from the bathroom (good thing we’d added on a spare one by then), hair soaked, fingers wrinkled, and exclaimed, “Your sister is a GENIUS!”