Originally written March 12, 2008
Well okay, I don’t believe in God. But at one point, I worshipped Garth Brooks. And thanks to him, I had one of those mother-daughter moments you don’t easily forget…
On our daily commute to daycare and work, I looked up at the visor and saw some CDs I hadn’t played in a while, so I popped in some Garth Brooks. I used to play him a lot when Alyssa was younger, as it would instantly quiet her down, but it had been a while. Nowadays, “AB” is so quiet in the mornings, apart from the occasional crunch of Cheerios coming from the back seat.
A few minutes into, “Wild as the Wind,” AB asks, “Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?” She only lets me call her baby when no one else is around.
“WHAT is wild as the wind?”
Took me a second to figure out she was asking about the song. So I said, “Love is.”
Silence in the back seat. And then, “Love isn’t wild as the wind, Mommy. It is… gentle. Like the rain.”
My turn to be silent. Thinking, my god, she’s a 4-year-old poet. Or at the very least, a romantic, like me.
“I suppose it is, baby.”
Then I realized, when you’re a 4-year-old child and the only love you know is that of your parents, love is gentle. Some day it may rage like a hurricane for her, but for now…
A few minutes later, during, “To Make You Feel My Love,” I hear her little voice again, floating up from the back seat.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“This song is pretty, like you.”
My vision is suddenly blurry.
“Thank you, baby.”
Almost at school now, playing, “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”
“Mommy, what is this song about?”
“It’s about telling people you love them.”
“Well… I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
“I love Daddy, too.”
“Daddy loves you, too, baby.”
A moment of silence, and then…
“Mommy? Is it okay that I love you more than I love Daddy?”
Man, that’s a tough one!
“I think Daddy will understand that, baby.”
I can almost hear her smile. “That’s why I love him!”
The pure honesty of a child is humbling.
I’ve dropped her off at school, and as I pull away and see her little face in the window, next to a wildly waving hand, “The Dance” is playing.
And I think of all the mistakes I’ve managed to make in almost 35 years. All the things I sometimes think I would have changed, all the times I wish I could forget. And I hear the song and know for certain that I could never change a single decision, one single thing I’ve done. Because had I done even one thing differently, I would have missed 20 minutes in the car, talking with my daughter about love and Garth Brooks songs.
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