Bouncing and Beaming:  This morning I met our daughter at the Pegasus Equestrian Center in Brewster, New York for the first class of her Fall program. The only female amongst five members, the group were of similar ages, one young man already living in a group home in Norwalk, Connecticut, managed by the service agency Star. Shifted from her summer horse Melo to Scout, a blond and bushy beauty, our daughter rode proudly, arms stretched out like wings, to enhance balance training, trotting, leaning forward, bouncing, and beaming. If anything will ever teach our daughter to raise her eyes when she is walking, it will be riding. She has to look ahead and perhaps finally will train her eyes to do so making traversing streets and parking lots a much safer venue for this equestrian gal.

Gracious Company: The mission to find winter boots at the mall was equally successful along with a purchase of long sleeve shirts and tacos at the food court. While browsing through the aisles at Forever 21, our daughter graciously said, “Thank you for taking me to buy boots.” She was patient when I had errands to complete, including my continuing quest for a coffee table for her apartment and a quick try-on at the watch counter at Macy’s (I have been looking for a new watch for a year so she is use to this ritual.) We chatted over our lunch about the movie “Buck” which she saw the previous evening and truly loved. Fascinated by Buck Brannaman, the real-life horse whisperer, she spoke of the parental abuse he and his brother received as children, wondered where his brother was today, and how his mother had died, all questions I too puzzled about when I saw the film. She was entranced by Robert Redford’s appearance in the documentary (he had directed and starred in the movie The Horse Whisperer) and is eager to pose these questions to the director Cindy Meehl, who met Buck years ago and went on to make this amazing film.

Girlie Rapport: Everything about this outing went smoothly, though we did not decide on either a coffee table or a watch. But we had that wonderful rapport that I adore which perhaps only a daughter can provide. She is not impatient with my lingering over jewelry and taking bathroom breaks every half hour or so. She doesn’t mind if I stop to chat with an acquaintance or compliment a stranger on their baby son’s hat. She does not pester me to make a decision nor tease me if I can’t. Something about a mother-daughter deal when once they mature can be divine. And this day so far has been that. Tonight we will see the  movie “The Help.” I know that I will cry, might even sob and we may go with her brother and his boyfriend. But if I sit next to the girl in the group, I will not have to sweep away those tears quite as quickly. When we saw “My Sister’s Keeper”, the tear jerker of the twenty-first century for any mom, she did get a bit perturbed by my endless sobbing, and we had a good giggle about it. We shall see what happens with “The Help.” It is my childhood that will be touched on by the story of a warm and loving black woman who raises white children. What I know is that part of how I love comes from how I was loved by just such a lady.

As for the litter of kitties just born two days ago at The Complete Cat Clinic, alas our daughter was unable to see them. Mocha, the proud momma, and her offspring, were of course, sequestered and Dr. Eisen was too busy to bring our daughter in to see the then day-old babies. What can you do. Though I am in endless pursuit of perfect moments for both our children, I am clearly no more in control of the outcomes than any other crazy mother on a mission to make happy those whom she loves. I wonder if Mocha feels that way too?

©Jill Edelman, M.S.W., L.C.S.W. 2011