Dinner Talks & Truth Bombs

What my daughter reminded me about resilience, loss, and the light beyond lack.

Over dinner with Hailey yesterday, our chat drifted to school events. She mentioned a boy in her class who boards while the rest get to go home. I thought that was unfortunate, even unfair.

She explained that sometimes he comes to class with unfinished homework. Understandable, because they’re given way too much for one evening. Four subjects, each with two digit questions. It’s just impractical. And yet, the same child is expected to be an all rounder.

So where’s the time to play, to socialize, to have family moments, or even to breathe?

I told her I was glad that their teacher understands his situation because unlike most kids, he doesn’t have an adult at home to help him catch up.

That conversation pulled me back to a memory, three years ago. A sad one. I traveled to Kamba land to bury a colleague, a young mother who passed away after childbirth, leaving behind two daughters-one days old, the other not yet five.

It was too much to bear. The grief, the uncontrollable tears, the helplessness. My head pounded so badly I popped painkillers like candy. But the heaviest ache in my heart was knowing those girls would grow up without a mother’s love.

I shared this with Hailey. And her reply left me in silence.
She said, “Mum, they will be okay. Funny how kids who grow up with lack turn out better than those who are privileged.”

Brilliant observer, i wonder what she has been watching or listening to lately that is sharpening her life skills this much. Not to mention her new love for the short cut drama series 'rookie' from YouTube-must get a way of us watching one or two full episodes together.

Before I could recover, she flipped the story.
“Mum, it’s like you. If you get more money, you won’t mismanage it, because you haven’t had enough for a while now.”

Eyes wide open.
“What do you mean I don’t have money?”

“I mean, you’re always saying your pay isn’t enough, that you’re underpaid, that you need extra sources of income. That’s what I mean.”

No chills. She was dishing the truth, and she wasn’t taking it back.

At that point, I didn’t know whether to take it as a compliment on my budgeting or as a low key observation from her that I’m ‘poor’ or just a habitual complainer.
I nodded, smiled, and corrected her “Not if I get more money but when I do.”

Her perspective lingered with me, loss as a trainer of resilience, lack as a teacher of better management, but always, always the reminder that light shows up on the other side of darkness.

Lesson learned-there’s always another way to look at life. Perspective! 

And I wasn’t even mad when LinkedIn restricted my 9-year-old account the same evening. At least not anymore.