Skipped Generation

    Marianna was shy, quiet, reserved, but she knew how to pay attention. That's what her mother had said. "You are always there, paying attention. Watching, but silent. Too silent."

Mariana didn't know what that meant..."always there!" A bother? In the way? Her mother's voice was kind, but controlled, when she said that, on the edge of appreciative rather than condescending or critical, so Marianna guessed, no, knew it was a compliment, well, almost a compliment, something her mother had appreciated about her or, at least, could bear.

Not that she was perfect. Oh, no, that had always been clear. You would be so pretty if you.... or Women that make something of themselves always.... and, once, Speak up! Say something, anything--Spoken too loudly, almost a shout. Marianna wished now she'd been able to say, "I'm just thinking or I'm not good at that or I'm trying, or, more truthfully, I can't.

She was used to herself now, and had a life, a partner, a job, a few friends and, best of all, a chatty, witty daughter who talked all the time, even before the sounds coming out of her mouth were more than syllables, her babble practice for the stream of language that eventually emerged--opinions, joy, anxieties pouring from the music of that little girl's mouth.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Marianna asked once, overwhelmed by the flow of language from a tiny girl's mouth. Her daughter looked up in surprise and behind the surprise, was hurt--or was it embarrassment, a feeling Marianna knew well.

"I love listening to you," Marianna said. "Don't stop now!" 

She took a breath, her daughter took a breath, and chatted on, and then following, after that and well, guess what? .....How her mother would have adored this child, this tiny child, this impossibly wonderful little girl who always had plenty to say, even when nobody was listening.