Determination of a Young Mind

As a mother I raised three children, two of which were boys, and my daughter, the middle child. It was a label she had given herself, and one I never fully understood. She was and will always remain a beautifully challenging soul, and many times over an inspiration to her momma.

While these three adventurous souls were going through the process of evolving into grown-ups, we spent many days fishing on my grandparent's pond. Most of our catches consisted of blue gill, crappie, and a few cat tails, but once in a while someone would land a decent flat heat. The best days were when the tadpoles were congregating in the mud holes nearby. Regardless of how our fishing went they knew my grandma would be waiting at the house with snacks when they were done for the day, if she hadn't already packed a bag and brought it down to the water. This is the same woman who collected all their catches and fileted them just because she enjoyed doing it.

One particular day in September we had went to fish for the oldest son's birthday. All 3 kids were in hoodies, jeans, and boots of some sort. I watched her make the cast directly over a dead log that had fallen into the pond, and I could already see it was going to get hung up. There was no amount of jiggling or holding your tongue right to save it, and I knew she was going to be upset. As I was searching my mind for a solution that wouldn't cause alligator tears and loud words, she jumped. Right into that muddy old pond, hoodie and all, she jumped. The water in some places was up to her arm pits, and there was no doubt the weight of her clothes was heavy on her tiny frame. I'd watched her brother cut lines many times before that day, and mistakenly assumed she was getting ready to do the same. Instead, she waded out chest deep yelling about it being her favorite lure and she was NOT going to sacrifice it to the pond gods, or something along those lines. She got her lure back, made it safely back to the bank, up to her great grandmas to look for some dry clothes, and if my memory is correct was right back on the bank trying to out fish the boys.

That young girl, deathly afraid of frogs thanks to stories from the first-born, conquered her fears that day, and gave me yet one more reason to know when she fell into a soul crushing run with opiates, that she would pull through. There was never a day that I didn't look at that struggling young woman and not see that same girl fighting for her from the inside. Today, my daughter is a 22-year-old mother of a little boy with that same drive and determination and has been sober for going on 2 years. Addiction sucks. It does not define. What defines those affected are the way they fight through it, and the character they become. There were many times I was afraid it might take her before she found her way, but at this point in her story, she has learned all the strength and patience she is going to need over the next couple decades, raising a child of her own. I can't wait to see where their journey takes them.