Change

In the past few weeks, the subject of change has come up in several of my conversations. The most recurring dialogue is that regarding Bronte and Tyler whose father left them one night offering little more than $40 to each and giving a vague reference to when he would return. In the face of this, the children, ages 13 and 9, have gone on living there lives joyfully and with little variation outside of the extra chores Davis left behind. While one would think that this type of trauma would have a profound impact on people of such influential ages, they are able to openly express their beliefs that their father is better suited elsewhere and they feel relief more than sadness.

This repeating conversation usually begins with my mom saying "Isn't it weird that they're OK?" to which my reply is always "Not really..." and I'll tell you why:

These beautiful, intelligent, and above all resilient beings are a product of constant change. They have been given the gift of perpetual adaptation, partly due to my mom's restless nature and army brat upbringing, but mostly due to her leading by example, showing them to embrace change rather than resist it, and always allowing her children to be exactly as they are. The children have been trained to act as a rubberband instead of a brick wall in situations that present upset. They see that in order to balance, one can't rely on rigidity but must continuously adjust and breathe to successfully maintain steadiness. Though they may not know this on a conscious level, they understand the concept viscerally , and are therefore able to handle themselves with maturity and wisdom beyond their limited years.