Is It Your Chess Move?

I’m glad to be at a point in my life, where I can sit back and watch my children grow. It is important to know, they are becoming who they want to be, and not what they think I expect. Choosing their own paths in life, careers that interest them, and things that truly make them happy is paramount. If it had been my job, I might not have chosen the paths they are on -and wouldn’t that have been a shame, for everyone defines happiness differently.

We each have opportunities to make choices, however only for ourselves. We don’t’ get to move loved ones, as though they are chess pieces on our game board. I’ve made choices throughout my life. And those lessons that disappoint me the most, are the times when I was following other’s expectations, rather than following my heart. Isn’t it hard to swallow your pride and admit to making a mistake, and yet it’s even harder when you realize, you took a fool’s advice?

It is hard to know, if listening to your gut is right or if your heart is best. Having patience, taking the time to collect the data, as well as listening to other ideas, before making an educated decision is tough. As the third child of four, I didn’t often get to make my own choices. It wasn’t financially possible for my parents to provide a wide array of adventures. They did the best they could as parents, to which I’m truly grateful. Making decisions and taking ownership of mistakes as a child, was a luxury I often missed. On a brighter note, I am a better person for not always getting what I wanted. The most meaningful lesson to take from my childhood, might just be, to look at my “lack of decision making” as a gift. The skill of knowing when to let other lead. The restraint, to control my adult children. -And so, I sit back with that cliché, bowl of popcorn and watch the adventures of all childhood experiences with pleasure.

The first trinket that I’ve discovered from this experience, that may pop-up in my children’s stories, is that we all want to figure it out on our own. I’ve tried not to tell the story, rather I hope I’ve let the reader see the story through the eyes of a thirteen-year-old.

www.leannembenson.com

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