I choose to believe that I choose everything. I’ve chosen my parents, my family, my spouses, my joys and my pains. And I have chosen my children. Thank god for serendipity because I chose most of these people and events unconsciously, yet my children have brought me the most joy and relief. That is strange to say as a single parent with absent and barely-there fathers. My relationships were tough and painful. I entered into them blissfully and found myself alone with a child before the baby turned one each time. I chose that as well. Unconsciously, or in a past life. These relationships reflected my deeply held misbeliefs in myself and the impossibilities of love. I choose to believe that I unconsciously created these painful circumstances. In accepting that responsibility I can change it, which is what I have been doing. That’s another story. This one is about two beautiful young ladies I call my daughters.
Isandla is 14. She’s nervous about entering high school. Her name is Zulu for “Hand of God.” Anelisa is 9. She’s not nervous about much yet that I can see. Her name is also Zulu for “Perfect completion or satisfaction.” They are two sides of me at different stages of my development. What I love about them is that, like most children I know, they are easy to love. They listen intently to what I have to share with them. They share stories with me. We laugh together. They forgive me when I’m angry. We accept each other. Two Minnie Riperton lines come to mind:
“I think you are the perfect angel…I think you are the perfect little one…”
“Loving you is easy because you’re beautiful…”