Coffee Stories
Mothers and daughters: When the curtain falls away
I hadn’t seen my daughter’s face for almost twelve months.
We’d shared photos since last Christmas, dozens of them, but pixels can’t capture the sound of her laugh, the beauty of her big, brown eyes or the way she walks with purpose. Too much time had passed between us, not from anger or distance of the heart, but from life pulling us in our separate directions. Three years ago, I moved to Florida to heal and find myself. She stayed in Indiana to build her life and business. We went from weekly visits to … this. Almost a full revolution of the earth since I’d hugged my girl.
But now I had her all to myself for nine precious days.
There’s a sheer curtain that hangs between people when time has passed, familiar but not quite clear, like looking through frosted glass at someone you know by heart but need to relearn by touch. I expected that curtain to linger, to take days to push aside.
I didn’t expect it to dissolve completely in an airport parking garage.
In my excitement to see her, I’d forgotten where I’d parked. There we were, her with her luggage, me with my terrible sense of direction, both of us laughing as we wandered level after level. By the time we found my car (thanks to the panic button on my key fob), we weren’t mother and adult daughter carefully reconnecting. We were just us, laughing at the absurdity, already creating the first story of her visit.
The twenty-minute drive home sealed it. We created an inside joke so perfectly inappropriate, born from a car repair fiasco and divine automotive timing, that I can’t share it publicly. But when that AC kicked in after days of not working, we both shouted our thanks to the universe at the exact same moment. You had to be there. You always have to be there for the best family moments.
My kids, all three of them, have inherited my quick wit and questionable sense of humor. One incident becomes a phrase that lasts the trip, the year, or forever. This visit’s phrase got cosmic confirmation when, days later, exhausted from shopping and searching for face wash in CVS, we found ourselves face-to-face with a retail display that made us lose our minds with laughter in the seasonal decoration aisle. The universe, it seems, has a sense of humor too.
But it wasn’t all magical retail moments and inside jokes. It was deeper than that.
It was Zach and Lexi slipping back into their sibling language, her still calling him “Zachy” like she did when they were little. It was me watching them both, apparently with a smile on my face I don’t even realize I’m wearing. “You just sit there and smile at us,” they tell me, half-embarrassed, fully loved. I could watch them for hour, just existing, just being themselves, together in my space.
It was showing her my Florida life. The St. Johns Town Center where she observed “there’s so much skin!” making Zach and me realize how immune we’ve become to Florida’s eternal summer wardrobe. The Night of Lights in St. Augustine. The mandatory Buc-ee’s stop. Our favorite seafood place in Mayport that requires a ferry crossing, forty minutes each way of uninterrupted conversation.
It was playing Mario games until midnight on the big TV they’d surprised me with for my birthday. Me, who hasn’t seen midnight in forever, wide awake because my babies were home and we were together, controllers in hand, trash-talking like they were ten and twelve again.
It was the way we all sleep like logs in each other’s homes. That deep, safe sleep that only comes when your body knows – really knows – that you’re protected.
“Wherever your mom is, you’re home,” the saying goes. But it works in reverse too. Wherever my kids are, I’m home. When Lexi’s here, my house becomes its fullest version. When we’re at her place, her space wraps around us all like it was waiting for us to complete it.
As a mother, I’m incredibly proud of my children’s accomplishments. They’ve built careers, found their paths, created their own lives. But if I’m honest – brutally, beautifully honest – the best times of my life weren’t the milestones or the achievements.
The best times were simpler: keeping a safe home with the kitchen stocked, utilities on, lawn mowed, appliances working. They were the unglamorous acts of love that nobody photographs – grocery runs and laundry loads and remembering to change the AC filter. They were creating a space so stable that laughter could bloom because nobody had to worry about the foundations.
The best times were all of us under one roof, just being together.
Now I’m back in my cozy spot in Florida, coffee in hand on this rainy Sunday morning. The house has returned to its quieter version – still lovely, still mine, but not quite as alive as it was for those nine days.
I miss her. I miss all of us together. I miss the beautiful chaos of everyone home.
This is the price of successful motherhood, isn’t it? You build them a nest so safe they grow wings strong enough to fly away. You celebrate their flight even as you grieve the empty rooms. You transform from the person who keeps everyone under one roof to the person who cherishes the rare moments when everyone chooses to come back.
The curtain between us is gone now, though. Those nine days erased it completely. Now there’s just the distance of miles, nothing more. She’s there, I’m here, but we’re connected. No veil between us, no careful relearning needed next time.
Just us. Mother and daughter. Always.
My word stack for today:
Mother + Daughter
Mother [muhth-er] noun, Origin: Old English mōdor, “she who nourishes” She who builds foundations strong enough that love and laughter can bloom without worry or fear.
Daughter [daw-ter] noun, Origin: Old English dohtor, “she who was nourished” The one who makes a house its fullest version just by being there, near or far.
These mugs are part of our From Coffee Stories collection – word stacks inspired by my personal journey shared in these posts. Each memoir piece becomes a stackable memory you can hold in your hands. Available in two sets: one from mother to daughter, one from daughter to mother. Personalized with your names on the back. Start your own collection and create combinations that speak to your journey.
Shop My Mother + Daughter:
A few things that made Lexi’s visit special:
☕ Coffee Warmer – [Amazon Link] – Never let your morning coffee go cold during those long conversations that stretch past noon.
🛋️ Heated Blanket – [Amazon link] – The one on my couch that creates the cozy spot where everyone wants to curl up and stay awhile.
🎮 Nintendo Switch – [Amazon link] – For midnight Mario sessions when your babies are home and sleep can wait.
✈️ Luggage Tags – [Amazon link] – Because she’ll always have a place to come home to, no matter how far the miles between visits.
Some links are Amazon affiliate links, which means I earn a small commission if you purchase through them at no extra cost to you. I only share products I actually use and love!
