Love Threads

by: ERYN ROUSH

My parents are the type of parents that inspire greatness in their children. They hold us up to the light and illuminate all of our qualities. They lend us their ears, arms, and legs when we aren’t strong enough on our own to get from one place to the other. My parents are the molds I was made from, yet I can only hope to prove my gratitude for the threads of their love that still hold me together.

For instance, the time I was sitting, tanned and slightly sweaty, on the balcony of a condo in Florida. My mom came quietly out of the sliding doors and stood beside me at the railing. I looked up from my book and watched as she stared out at the ocean, the wind feathering her hair around her face. I watched silently as her hand reached out and came to rest on my foot that was propped up on the white metal railing. She never looked down; just found my foot like a paper clip finds a magnet. I watched as her finger traced the dandelion tattoo that wound up the top of my foot and came to rest at my ankle. I noticed how her hands had gotten darker in the sun, how the palm of her hand still seemed cold even in the summer heat. She took her hand back and placed it on the railing. I sat for another few seconds and ran inside, hiding behind the door to my bedroom; I sat on the floor and began to sob. The woman who bore me, listened to me whine, cooked my meals, and patched up my boo-boos for twenty something years had become infinitely beautiful to me that day. The saddest part of this story is that I realized I could never repay her for the years of sacrifice and hidden heartache that I had caused.

My daddy, who is the cutest and most joyful man, has actually had me wrapped around his finger as much as he is wrapped around mine. It’s amazing how a daughter can grow up leaving so many kind, loving, and life-giving words unspoken. Then, it comes time for that daughter to leave home and become a wife and she looks back and wishes she had known better. I wish I could have taken the time to remind him that I was glad he was my Daddy and the man I measured all men against. That the same passion that runs through his veins also runs through mine. I’ll never love another man like I love him, with all the completeness of the daughter and daddy bond, with the never ending admiration of a little girl who only looks grown up.

As I’ve grown up and experienced different life stages, I’m finding that this one is the most mysterious. I know that when May 27th comes around I will be Chris’ wife, with a new last name, a new home, a new life stage. I am excited, and a bit saddened that my parents will be empty nesters. I know that they have somehow managed to provide wonderful lives for me and my two older siblings, all the while maintaining their marriage. I know they are perfectly capable of existing, just the two of them. Still, the thought of them waking up by themselves next Christmas morning and waiting on us to arrive is enough to break my heart! Yet, I realize that even through my bittersweet tears, I can see them. They are thrilled for me. They are standing to my left and right with their everlasting love and support.

Just like they have always been and always will be. Those are the threads of their love