There was clearly a moment between my daughter and me when the
student became the teacher. A few weeks ago, while helping arrange her university
schedule for next term, I was reading the course descriptions over the phone
when I stopped at the word diaspora. I freely admitted that I wasn’t sure what
that word meant when, without hesitation, she rambled off an articulate definition.
I was humbled and impressed at the same time, grateful that we may be getting our money’s worth at university and happy to offer up an opportunity
for her to display her knowledge—which was totally what I was trying to do. Just
in case you’re in the same boat as I was, Wikipedia defines diaspora as the
movement, migration or scattering of people away from an established or
ancestral home. So, now we all know.
Reminders that our family dynamic is evolving are all around
me. Regularly for the last year, my son had me stand back to back with him to measure
how tall he was getting. And now it’s official, I’m the shortest one in the
house. Good news is: there’s something symbolic about reaching this point in my
life when my kids are taller than I am which signifies how far we’ve come; bad
news is: time is flying by.
At family parties over the last week, with many little ones
to enjoy, I reminisced about days gone by. With kids around, people love to point out
family resemblances, and when they exhibit behaviours or expressions similar to
their parents’, it’s easy to assume that kids are simply miniature versions of
ourselves; that they will grow up with the same likes and dislikes and have the
same ambitions, and it’ll be great because you can save them from any mistakes
you made or chances you missed. But it doesn’t work like that. We can shape our children and
influence their environment but it's a powerful moment when we let go of misconceptions about who our children should be or could be, and realize that what our kids turn out like may not be what we
first envisioned but is, in fact, better.
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