I’ve always had this daydream that my kids would grow up, unscathed by life, be graduated from college, find the kind of husband that everyone dreamed of, have a couple of kids who were even more gorgeous than their mamas, and live happily ever after.
Somewhere inside this daydream was me. I imagined late weekend nights sitting on their beds, college brochures piled around us, a map of the country laid out and highlighted, plotting and planning out the endless possibilities. Intermingled in this daydream was senior pictures and homecoming dresses and prom. Okay, so my daydream sounds a little like “Gilmore Girls,” but I am more than OK with that because, in the end, the Girls win.
I’ve daydreamed about the chicks’ milestones. Their first homecoming dance, prom, graduation, and voting. What I didn’t take into account was that these things would happen a lot quicker than I ever imagined. Then comes the ridiculous reality that they happen in this weird time loop because there’s no way I have children this old. I mean, I remember they were barely able to reach the steps on the school bus like yesterday. But my family is knee-deep in it now.
First, there is the sheer denial that I’m in of having a child who is old enough to graduate. Life’s funny, eh? I mean, I can remember saying things like, “I can’t wait until she’s old enough to drive,” or “I can’t wait for my girls to be able to vote!” Now, I twitch a little bit when I pay the car insurance and am trying to wrap my head around the fact that the other day my oldest registered to vote. She registered to vote. And since she’s entered that period of teen that tamps down her need to talk to me much these days, I knew how excited she was because she’d give me the “(this) many days until I register to vote” countdown.
She sent a text the other day, exclaiming that she was officially registered. I was so happy for her because she’s wanted to vote for a couple of years now. The presidential election made her mad because she couldn’t participate. She follows a lot of political figures on social media and can hold her own in a conversation about their platforms and why/why not she supports them.
My girls are familiar with voting. They’ve accompanied me to the polls for most of their years. Voting is a big deal and something that we do here. I expect my kids to be voters. It wasn’t something we talked about when I was a kid. We had strict rules about politics at home, and I barely remember hearing about it from anyone at all other than my cousin Gene.
I knew I’d be excited and proud when she told me it was official, but I wasn’t prepared for the huge wave of emotion that came with it. After we exchanged congratulations, she went back to class and I went back to work, but there was this feeling of … how do I put this? … passing the torch. Surprisingly, I could almost feel myself aging out. What I’m doing, and what I’ve told my chicks for years, is just the beginning. I am working alongside my partners to blaze the trail, but it’s my chicks’ generation’s responsibility to catch it on fire. As bittersweet as it is, it’s about time for someone else to take over.
I have hope in my daughters’ generation. They see things differently. They’re more inclusive and accepting. They’re young and energetic, and they have time to learn and put it into action. I’m excited about the fact that they are more willing to have uncomfortable conversations, at least from my viewpoint, and aren’t afraid to speak their minds.
One thing that I’ve made sure to emphasize with my oldest is to have the conversation with everyone she knows about why they, too, should register to vote. They will be able to get their peers to the polls easier than I can, knowing that my talk would be mom-speak. I can’t wait to explore with her what would work and what wouldn’t, how we make this important.
This past election, as I cast my vote, I realized that I had tears in my eyes. I felt with every ounce of my being that it was the most important vote I had ever cast. I want to help these young ones create a culture where we acknowledge voting as something that is important. I want them to learn about Fannie Lou Hamer, Civil Rights activist, who fought and took beatings because voting was that important to her.
I want them to exhaust the polls. And that, I believe, is my next daydream.
Onward,
Amy Jo
