My daughter, let me hold your hand for a while

Alu and Konsti are not only as parents a good team - they also write together the parent blog Grossekoepfe.de. Her contributions revolve around life as a family of five in Berlin, are sometimes thoughtful, sometimes funny, definitely authentic and almost always political!

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This morning I was in the subway behind an elderly lady. Her white, wavy hair came over her shoulders and she read a book. Dressed in a black coat with red shoes, she stood with both feet firmly in front of me.

My child, will you be like this when you are older? Will I still be there and my wrinkled fingers touching yours? Will you stand with both legs and flowing hair in the subway and go your way?

That's how often I think of you as an adult. I often think I recognize the delicate traits of your grandmother in you.

Are you still going to wear your hair as long as now and mostly open? Will your fine features lose the childish charm? How will it be between us when you grow up? Will we often see each other and talk about everyday life, or will you be far away, inside?



I look at you while you sleep, forgetting all the little quarrels of everyday life in those moments. The hard times, they are still coming, they tell me. Your voice, when you argue with me. Your will, which manifests itself in small nastiness. I can still see you in those moments, your eyes sparkle like mine and then I just smile at you. Often we start to laugh together and take the shock out of our limbs.

Let's keep it that way, let the laughter and our love always connect useven in the moments when you consider me the most terrible mother and I consider you the most despicable daughter.

Let's remember how we spent so much time in the clinic at the age of two and how I snuggled your little body to me. Let us pause in those moments that show me how tall you have become and that make me proud and make me cry.



My big child with the firm will and the fine face.

How will you be when you grow up and are older than me now? Will you make room in the subway for an old woman and smile? Will you have a family of your own, daughters and sons who question you again and again?

I drive a few more stops with the beautiful lady in front of me and pause.

On the way home, I take your hand, and you let me hold it today. I tell you about my meeting and you squeeze my hand and say:

"Who knows if there'll be the subway, Mama," and maybe that's the only question we should ask today.

Text by Anne-Luise Kitzerow-Manthey, originally published on grossekoepfe.blogspot.de.

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