Dear sweet girl —
There we were, walking down the hall to our apartment, your feet moving slower than usual, your hand tightly gripping my own.
Normally the journey to our front door after school involves you dancing and twirling so that your hands are in the air instead of wrapped up in mine. Normally you are chattering away, singing a silly song, happily laughing as your smile casts extra light into the fading day.
Yet there you were, quiet and close beside me, doing none of these things.
I tell myself you are tired, but I know better: because I can read between your lines—the ones that I’ve grown to know over the past six years—I know something else is going on.
I stop walking, and your stride stops, too. I kneel down in front of you, and when we’re face to face, our eyes meet, and I look at you, open and waiting.
Because I know that’s all it ever takes, that simple acknowledgement that I’m here, ready to listen, and, just like I expected, you finally speak.
“Can I tell you something, Mommy?” you ask.
Although we’ve yet to reach our front door—the one that’s only ten feet away—I don’t want this moment to pass. I gather you close and move to the edge of the hall. Our bags are at our feet, you’re sitting on my lap sideways as I lean against the wall, and your hand, still in mine, has yet to loosen its grip.
“Don’t just tell me something,” I say. “Tell me everything.”
And then, your tentative voice, thick with concern, tells me a story:
You tell me how a little boy was unkind to you today. How he made fun of you on the playground. How he told you your sweater was ‘ugly’ and how he said your headband was ‘stupid.’ How he pointed to your nose and said it was ‘too small.’ How he called you a ‘baby’ when he saw your eyes fill with tears.
I kiss the crown of your head as you share this story, my hand never once letting go of yours.
When you’re done, we sit there, quiet for a moment, before I finally speak.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say. “I’m sorry that happened.”
I hesitate briefly, but then I ask, “So what did you do?”
“I told him he was hurting my feelings. I told him he wasn’t being nice. And then…well, then I told him to stop. That what he was doing wasn’t right,” you answer.
I feel the tightness in my chest loosen, and the weight of the worry my heart is holding all at once is replaced with the lightness of pride.
“That’s okay, right?” you ask.
“Is what okay?” I brush the hair back from your forehead and tuck it behind your ear.
“That I told him to stop? That it wasn’t right?”
“Yes, it’s okay,” I say, gently turning your face so I can look you in the eye again. “In fact, it’s more than okay.”
And inside, my heart cries out the words again:
Yes. Yes. YES.
Every day, I look around at the world we are living in, and to be honest, what I see scares me to death. What I see makes me wonder if the world will ever be nostalgic for this time. But oh, sweet girl, what I see in you gives me such hope.
Because every day, I am able to look past how this world is, and instead, I see you—a bold, brave, fearless little girl:
A girl who stands up. A girl who speaks out. A girl who stays true. A girl who is brave.
Yes. Yes. YES.
* * *
As I hold you, my thoughts drift to the way that I once was and the way that I still am sometimes today:
Fearful to stand up or speak out.
Quick to let other people’s hurtful words define the way I feel about myself.
Afraid to take the risks I know I need my heart to take.
Yet here you sit, safe in my arms, offering me this beautiful, unspoken reminder of the way we need to always be, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware of the gravity of the responsibility I am tasked with on an everyday basis—as your mother, your friend, your confidant, your mentor.
You will always be here, looking up to me, at the way I am, modeling your behavior after my own.
So my wish for you, sweet girl, is that you’re always as brave as you were today:
Brave enough to stand up for what you believe in.
Brave enough to say yes to the things that feel right.
Brave enough to say no to the things that feel wrong.
Knowing you the way I do, I have a feeling your heart will know the difference.
Just remember to follow it.
So be brave little one—and I’ll promise to do the same: For you. For me. For us.
All my love, always,
Mommy
* * *
Let me know: How do you stay brave in a world that tries to make you—and keep you—scared?
Corey is a writer, graphic designer, and mom to her amazing daughter, Zoey. Here at The Nostalgia Diaries, her goal is to simplify, enhance, and engage people’s lives by helping them focus on the most important things: remembering, appreciating, believing, and becoming. It’s all about celebrating the past to create better days today.
Just joining me on my journey? Catch up on the Everyday Nostalgia series here.
At The Nostalgia Diaries, our goal is to help you simplify, enhance, and engage your lives by focusing on the most important things: remembering, appreciating, believing, and becoming. It’s all about celebrating the past to create better days today.
P.S. Don’t forget to follow our colorful, creative spaces on , and . We’re fun and happy and whimsical and nostalgic over there, too. Pinky swear.
I could feel the rawness of your emotions throughout as you supported your little girl. Lovely post
I love this story. As a mom it hurts my heart to see my babies hurt. They are learning good lessons!
Felt that one in my heart as I know these days aren’t that far away for my little ones.
Keep on crushing it, Zoey. You’ll move mountains.
Yes! So important to cultivate in our lives…to be brave!
My heart. Love her sweet soul and love your words. Be brave Zoey. You can do it.
You are such a wonderful mommy. I’m so sorry this happened to your daughter but you are teaching her to live fearlessly and to be brave. Those are lessons you are imparting on her that she’ll take with her always <3
Your daughter sounds so pure and sweet. I am brave because I understand that I can’t control how other people handle things, but I can control how I react and handle things (if that makes any sense.)
This is so beautiful, I could feel myself tearing up reading it. Thanks for sharing.
O that is beautiful!
“Don’t tell me something. Tell me everything”
What a wonderful way of letting her know that she is important to you.
You are a wonderful mother. Thank you for raising a brave and powerful daughter. You are teaching her courage and whole-hearted living.
Oh. My heart. Your daughter is such a brave girl to stand up for what’s right. I hope and pray my girls learn that “Bad things happen if good people do nothing” and that they become just as brave as your little one. Thank you for sharing. You are doing a great job.
awww this is beautifully written, and I love your answer don’t tell me something tell me everything. great r ead.
It’s so great that you were able to reassure her to stand up for herself! It can be so hard and it’s amazing that she’s been able to practice as a kid.
This hits my heart. i have a 3 yr old and 3 month old both girls and i hope i teach them well and let them learn lessons.
This is so sweet. Its terrible when you kid comes home upset and there isnt anything you can do. I hope they react without anger but still stick up for themselves.
Such a powerful story and so much emotion!
Krissy | https://www.thoughtfullyunraveled.com
We need more of these types of stories. I tell my little one that it’s ok to be scared, hurt or worried – but important to be brave. Love how you paused to give your daughter time to share her entire experience. Sometimes, we tend to jump in to solution mode instead of listening.
This is a great heartfelt story. Being a mom is a challenge at times when this type of thing happens to our kids but your daughter handled it beautifully. That is so wonderful!! This will never stop happening throughout life unfortunately, the best we can do is stand up and speak out and move on. Great story:)
I’ve gone through similar things with my kids. It is always so hard for a mom to hear her children are hurting, but it is often those life lessons that make them stronger.
Awww. Her response is a testament to how strong she is.
Such an important lesson to learn, especially for kids! It’s so hard as mom’s to hear about our kids getting their feelings hurt, good for your daughter for speaking her mind!
It’s taken me many years, but I have learned not to be afraid to speak up by realizing that I have value, and there are ways of doing it that make other people opening to listen. Sounds like your little girl has already figured that out.