Same Tuesday · Through her mother's eyes
Approximately one minute · A poem in two movements
It is 7:14 AM.
She is making coffee.
She has been worried for a week.
She cannot say why.
Her daughter has been quiet at dinner.
Not sad.
Just — reserved.
She has told herself it is the SATs.
The college essays.
Senior year is loud.
But she has felt it.
Then she sees it.
The feeling has a name now.
It is not the SATs.
It is not the essays.
It is her body.
And her daughter has already
started listening.
In the same instant,
five others see it with her.
She is no longer in the dark.
Movement II · What she does
She does not panic.
She does not push.
She does not ask "are you okay?"
twelve times today.
She makes dinner.
She asks one question.
She listens to the whole answer.
I saw your check-in. Tell me how you are.
She does not need her daughter
to explain everything.
She has the picture.
She has visibility.
She has language.
She has trust.
I knew something was off. I just couldn't see it.
Now I can see what she's seeing.
I am no longer guessing about my daughter.
She is no longer guessing.
She is partnering.
Training Intelligence
At the parent level.
Better Athlete®
Same Tuesday · Other eyes