Perhaps it is true that we are doomed to relive and perpetuate our sins through the actions of our children. Certainly we are predisposed by genetics, but to what end is always a question. Can we move beyond this biological fence to something more satisfying and enlightening? I have to hope we can, otherwise we are just mired in our self-indulgences.
I love my daughter, and try to tell her so. But not having heard the phrase much, or much at all, or even with conviction as a child, I sometimes catch myself not wanting to share even that most basic, and heartfelt emotion.
The dust-ups we have are always due to our proclivities, the irresistible force against the immovable object. Both equally convinced that the other needs to compromise, yet bound by circumstantial limitations that make finding common ground an elusive goal. And as you spend time tilting at each others windmills, that rare essence is passing before you, robbing you of love and laughter, and the happiness that only familial contentment can provide.
Since sainthood is not in my picture, all I can do is hope and pray that things don’t get to the point where we can’t share a moment, and a smile.