A request for my manifestation buddy, mitchigone for some reactions of Taylor's family and friends to her relationship with Travis, including some Grammy content, as requested in part two. :)
Andrea
"So...I don't want you to freak out. Or like, get excited...or anything, but I have a date."
It was funny, my daughter was a grown woman now, nearly thirty four years old and when she sat down to confide in me about something like this, it was difficult not to see the little girl with curls a mile long, bubbling over with joy, maybe some semblance of anxiety, too. The way she would tuck her ankles underneath her knees, fiddling with a string on her sweater, words tripping over themselves because they were flying out much faster than she could possibly contain them reminded me of her as a young girl, trying desperately to contain some big emotions.
I was very careful to keep my face neutral (something my kids are always teasing me about because of the hard time I have with it) and the effort I put forth to sound casual comes out just a little strained. Taylor picked up on it immediately, just as I thought, taking my hand.
"You think it's too soon."
I'd seen her go through horrific heartbreak, none of which, as her mother I could ever do a thing to prevent. I had also learned, over the years, to tone down giving my opinion unless she asked me for it. It had certainly helped ward off potential conflict between us; she appreciated the help when it was warranted, but like most young women, it had worked against me in the past. Nothing could create a rift between us faster than unsolicited advice, so I picked my battles and became more of a silent observer unless she point blank asked, "what do you think?" Even then, I chose my words very, very carefully. It wasn't walking on eggshells; it was designed simply to keep the peace.
But Taylor, at the age she was and where she was at this point, didn't adopt the same defensive attitude she had as a teenager. She was much more thoughtful in her approach now.
"I don't. I want you to be happy. And I can say, just watching you for the last few years, you very much weren't."
She sighed, picking a piece of lint off the toe of her sock. "I know. This guy, though...he seems nice. Funny. We've actually been sort of talking for a week or so. On the phone...texting. I dunno, I'm not really looking for anything serious, I guess, but we just agreed to go out while he's here next month and see."
There was a time in Taylor's life when she was about nineteen or so where she didn't want to hear anything. We were still close, but it wasn't like before. She insisted she was an adult, which technically, she was; the decisions she was making in her personal life had us scratching our heads. We worried for her.
Over the past three years, I couldn't recall ever seeing her so grossly unhappy. I knew things with Joe had gotten bad. She wouldn't talk much about it, said everything was fine when I asked. Her father had said the same when we spoke about her; something was wrong. Her cheeks were sunken in, she was uncharacteristically quiet. I knew in my bones...call it a mother's instinct, that everything was falling apart.
To be at this moment again, sipping tea with her on her sofa at her house, to see the light starting to come back into her eyes...it was a real blessing.
"I think taking things slowly is good," I offered neutrally (I was staying Switzerland in this situation and I would give myself a pat on the back for it later), "see where it goes. Maybe just keep an open mind."
"Mhmm, yeah, that's what I'm doing. I had a lot of time to grieve, though. It was over before it was actually over, you know?" She slung her leg comfortably over the sofa's arm, never able to quite stay still.
