The Force

The Force

A Poem by Ash

The sun beats down on my arms and face as I sit on the park picnic table, listening to the rustle of the leaves on the tree behind me.
A mischievous giggle breaks through the tranquility, and I look up in time to see a streak of pink shirt and brown hair. Then I find my tiny daughter has leapt unceremoniously into my lap.
Her blue eyes look deep into my own and she giggles once more before climbing onto my shoulders, grabbing a branch, and hoisting herself into the tree. 
Then I feel a shoe hit the back of my head!!
Of course, you must climb trees barefoot. 
I watch her scurry from branch to branch, trying to get as high into the tree as she possibly can. 
She, like her mother, relishes in the completely free feeling that only nature provides us. 
I look up and notice other parents looking at me in horror. 
What self-respecting parent lets their child climb that high? THAT'S NOT SAFE!!!
I, however, refuse to reign her in. She is strong, she is confident, she is happy being herself.
Who am I to take that away from her?
I look up in time to see her hanging by her hands from a branch about two feet out of my reach, and I manage to get under her just moments before she lets go, falling into my arms and laughing manically.
I once again find that we have garnered more terrified stares, but I just let it go. Like that song from a certain movie that she sings constantly. Like a record on repeat. 
I lift my fearless, crazy haired, wild child onto my shoulders,and feel the pride that I have for her wash over me. 
We share a laugh and walk to the car, the eyes of the other parents following us. Trying to rationalize whether or not they should say something. 
Some sharing not so secret glances and whispers. 
I just open the door, strap her into her car seat and smile. Start the car and let the riotous tones of Halestorm stream from the speakers and out the windows.
My cherie sings along as we drive away, a spectacle for everyone at park today. Hope it was entertaining, me and my little force to be reckoned with. 

© 2017 Ash


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Added on April 3, 2017
Last Updated on April 13, 2017
Tags: parenting, wild child, daughters, strong girls

Author

Ash
Ash

Lafayette, GA



About
I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions -Augusten Burroughs Sarcasm is an art, and I'm flipping Van Gogh I am a wild child, always stealing the stars and gett.. more..

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