She was about four years old. She stood in front of me waiting for her food. Grabbing her mom around her neck, she hugged her and said, “Mommy, when I grow up I’m going to cook for you!” Then she stood there tugging on the back of her pants. Her mom ignored her.

I wonder how many of those sweet comments went unnoticed by me when I was a young mom. Tired, busy, thinking about what I had to get done that night…or that week. And I glance over at my own daughter, now 29 years old, who is waiting for me at a table. I remember her at age four. Talking nonstop about everything that entered her mind, and how my brain would grow tired.

Sometimes I would hear her voice, but I’d tune out her words.  Just like the mom in front of me in line.

And I wish she would look at her girl and answer her. I wish she would tell her, “I would love for you to cook for me when you grow up. I would love it!”  I wish she was tuned in. I wish I could tell her…

I pay for two cups of tea and sit down next to my grown daughter. I’m thankful she is still talking to me about everything.  And I purpose to tune in.

To hear her voice as well as her words.

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