At first I thought she was just mimicking me - watching me in my meditation practice and copying my posture.

But now I keep finding her like this, on her own, as we watch the sunrise or while sitting on the couch.

“*What are you doing?*” I ask sometimes, out of curiosity.

“*Nothing. Just sitting here.*” she’ll say, eyes still closed.

After watching her for a while it became evident: She’s not pretending. She’s really just sitting there. Calm. Quiet. In her body.

It occurred to me today that all I’ve ever wanted is to do just that. To be just that.

I just want to sit here. Feel, here. Be, here. It’s funny how much time I spend showing her the ways of the world when actually, she is the one opening my eyes and my heart every day.

When the disciple is ready, the guru appears.

Mothering her shows me where I’m broken and puts me back together all at the same time.

Healing is generational. Ancestral. Futuristic. We heal now and we heal then.

It’s a beautiful, perfect mess.