no mother is an island.

When I was growing up everyone told me I was going to be special, that I was going to be someone. I felt I was destined for greatness, for somethingness. I wanted to be prime minister or a movie star, or later, the next Che Guevara. After Leila was born and I turned 25, I went through the painful process of realizing that I was just a person, like everyone else. No better or worse, and not destined for greatness. And that even if I was, that greatness would be have be fought for.

If I can tell Leila anything as she grows up, it's that she's good enough. That it is enough to simply love your friends and family. To work hard and be responsible. That getting up in the morning and putting one foot in front of the other is all that you need to do. There is still uncertainty in my life. I live in a one bedroom basement with my daughter and I don't really make enough money to make ends meet, but that's ok. I'm working towards something greater. I'm working towards being a good mother, towards being content . I am blessed to have friends and family who are willing and able to help me. Even if that just means bringing me a bottle of red wine at 10pm and sitting there for an hour and listening to what I have to say.

I've always had this yearning. This just out of reach desire for something that I could never identify. Whatever I had wasn't good enough, it had to be something more, something greater. Maybe I'm just getting older. Or maybe it's just that it's ok not to be special. Perhaps it is because I am the center of Leila's universe, I am her great love right now and so being all things to one person has allowed me to just be.

After Tom and I first split up, I wanted to run away, I wanted to move to Iceland or Nelson or anywhere far far away from the drama and sadness and the people who wouldn't talk to me anymore. But today we went to the Library and stopped off to pick up a new bottle at the kids store by our house. The woman who works there knows Leila by name and was happy to let her run around and play with her favourite stuffed bear and some hangers. Then we went and got coffee and the people there also know us. I paid them the fifty cents I owed them from last time when their debit machine was down and I didn't have enough cash. Leila ran around and showed the ladies who work in the kitchen her new bear. These are the people on the peripheries of her life who have known her since she was just this crying, mewling blob attached to me and now, she's sweet and playful and waves at everyone, and it's ok. It's ok to be stuck in this rainy city for the rest of the foreseeable future. There are worse places. And yes, there are people who won't even say hello to me anymore, but there are also people here who go out of their way to show me kindness and consideration and who have offered me friendship when I needed it most.

Everything is going to be alright.