My Daughter Lily Wondered

"I have always grown from my problems and challenges, from the things that don't work out, that's when I've really learned." — Carol Burnett



My daughter Lily wrote these words long ago which I transcribed into a poem . There was no date specified when I typed this from her handwritten manuscript before I threw it away. It was a mistake. I should have kept that original manuscript in my scrap book. See! I was tidying up her room cluttered with books, notes and papers. I presumed she must have written this in 2006  when she was in Year 12.

High school in Australia runs for 6 years to which the first two years of college (what we call back home  in my country preparatory or prep for short) is incorporated into the high school curriculum. Therefore, Lily was in her last year in high school when she wrote this piece in a small piece of scratched paper I found crumpled inside her drawer.

I was perplexed and speechless to discover the depth of her thought when I read the content of her writing. But I'm not surprised the way she thinks being one so matured beyond her years. She did not even remember that she wrote this. You would not imagine how amazed she was when I presented her work in an ode format. She could not believe of what I did, but she was very pleased.

When she showed to her friend Hayley my morphing works, this young lady has changed her 'opinion' towards Lily's Asian Mother. Hayley is a teacher by the way. Since then, all of Lily's friends become my 'instant' children and their parents also pay a token of respect to me.

As you see, we came from the country. My children were raised in a rural environment with old values instilled at home, school and community which is in great contrast to the values found in urbanized surrounding such as a big city like Sydney.

She was not happy as a student the moment she tasted what high school life in the city was. She hated some of her classes and subjects. The rough and insolent attitude of some teachers and students were treated with much displeasure which later left her no choice but to adapt some sullen ways to get even with them and that had compromised her individuality.

One time, she blurted out to me for rearing them as goody-goody kids by not telling them how cruel the world out there can be. And she was hated by being a goody-goody kid by her friends and classmates at school. If that was the only way she could openly display her spirit of rebellion, she did it but not for long. At the end of the day, she came up to a conclusive realization how different the way she was brought up, with only a single parent to guide her and her younger sister compared to most of her peers. And she appreciated that.

Personally as a parent, I allowed my children to learn by themselves the ways of the world outside their own home made of  shell, a metaphor for overprotective orb. My children are both observant. That was their only shield and weapon. Then, they were able to compare and decide for themselves what is Good or Bad. Things may not be perfect all along, but at least, they do me proud.

Today, I am going to share with you my girl's private thought that I made into a poem. I gave it a title:

TO WONDER

To wonder, to know,

To explore, always asking:

What am I?

Who am I?

What will become of me?

Of my knowledge?

Am I squandered on the world?

Cheapening existence through vanity?

How long before I am fit to say, I know this!

Rather than, I think this.

That in itself questions self,

Whether our thought and mind is

Our own knowledge and assurance.

At what point in time do we stop marching?

Pencil upon paper, sight upon colour and light.

A fixation upon what we comprehend

And that, which is incomprehensible.

Are we gambling with the gifts we are given?

Are they gifts?

The ability to question choice, life, the air we breathe;

The sun, the moon, clouds, stars, the earth, wind, rain, height.

Re-reading leads.

Random, our teachers abandon us,

Fending for all you are on your own

'Tis a lonely path all humans follow, trying to fill the void

With relationships, contact with others, family, friends.

I advanced myself only through victory.

Victory against what?

If there’s nothing to fight against,

How do we advance at all?

Do we fight against self-doubt?

From the Original Manuscript Written by Lily

Poetic Concept:

Copyright@2008, LD, All rights reserved.

"Friendship is a sheltering tree" ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

 Leah