“Even my tongue is sad,” “You smell like joy,” and other things that give me hope

“I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside.” From “The Greatest Love of All” — lyrics by Linda Creed, as sung by Whitney Houston

Scenes from a Family

Scene 1

A family eating dinner together — a husband and wife, their two teenage children, and their four year-old daughter. The stress of the day is wearing on everyone, especially the mother. The daughter wants to leave the table, but the mom insists that she eat her vegetables first. This “discussion” continues until the daughter realizes that she’s not going to be able to charm her way out of this one, so she acquiesces, but not without projecting one final moment of guilt on to the mother when she says, “Even my tongue is sad.”

The mom turns her back on the daughter so she won’t see her suppressed laughter. It’s not the first smile she’s had all day, but it’s definitely the biggest.

Scene 2

A kitchen in a suburban Toronto home on Thanksgiving Day in Canada. The mother is in the kitchen baking a pie. She’s covered in flour and resentment. The responsibility of preparing the holiday meal weighs heavily on her. Holidays never feel like holidays when you have four children at home.

Music is playing in an attempt to lighten her mood. The music is from someone she knows. Her youngest child, her four year-old daughter, is in the kitchen with her. The musician is a stranger to the daughter, but that doesn’t matter. His music is a friend to all who listen to it, and on this particular afternoon, it extends an invitation to the young girl to dance. So when she isn’t “helping” the mom with her cooking duties, she eagerly accepts the invitation by twisting, twirling, and jumping to the music in that magical way that only four year-old children can.

The mother, her hands buried in dough, looks up and attempts to blow hair out of her eyes by curling her bottom lip and blowing air through it. She catches a glimpse of her daughter “dancing.” Finally a moment that feels like it’s a holiday. She smiles and feels thankful for her connection to the man she knows and for the connection to his music that gave her this “holiday” moment.

Scene 3

A mother tucking her young daughter into bed later that night. Thanksgiving Day is now Thanksgiving night. The day has had its moments, but what the mother really wants to do more than anything is wash this day off of her and crawl into bed so she can become numb to her fatigue for a few hours.

So after the mother makes sure the daughter is warm and snuggled appropriately, she gets up to leave (she can’t wait to step into the shower and feel that initial blast of hot water), when the daughter shoots up from her prone position, buries her face in her mother’s shoulder, wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, and whispers, “You smell like joy.”

The mother chooses to not let the daughter see her watery eyes because she doesn’t want to confuse her and ruin the moment. So she just holds the daughter, and the daughter holds the mother, and while playing the game of “who will let go first,” the mother thinks to herself, “I smell like a mom who just spent all day in the kitchen. Is that what joy smells like? If it is, then I’ll take it.”

Yeah, the day definitely had its moments.

Why the Author of These Words is So Important

If I were reading this for the first time instead of writing it, the writer wannabe in me would be very curious to know who wrote the lines for the four year-old, because they read like something from Nora Ephron or the legendary Aaron Sorkin, as well as literary giants like Toni Morrison or Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

The truth is, they’re not from anyone who writes for a living. The author of these beautiful little passages is a four year-old girl who lives on the outskirts of Toronto, Canada. She didn’t write them for a school assignment; she uttered them in those moments to a mother who thankfully wrote them down and shared them. The words from this gifted little girl have stayed with me since I first read them, and have guided my thinking in numerous ways.

I Believe the Children are Our Future, Too

Those memorable lines from an incredible four year-old mind reassure me that our children will save us, and in the process, will re-shape our world to be on the right side of history. When I think of all the isms — racism, sexism, agism, for example — and when I think of all the divisive issues that are driven today more by fear than by compassion, such as immigration, gun violence/gun control, women’s reproductive rights, the voting rights of minorities, and gerrymandering — just to name a few, I’m convinced that the members of our children’s generation are collectively and cohesively on the same page in greater numbers regarding how to solve these problems when compared to my generation. And because of this, I feel strongly that our children’s generation will elect representatives at the local, state, and national levels that are their people and their champions. Together they will do the work that will change an America that has lost its way, and the fruits of their labor will result in a better world — a world that will be more loving, more inclusive, and more focused on the greater good; a world not fueled by fear, hatred, and the sins of our past generations, but a world that is more open, more truthful, and one that dares to hope.

I’m also convinced that this next generation will capture its history in compelling art that will leave indelible images in the hearts and minds of those who make it, admire it, and study it, and will honor its history in literature that will be crafted to challenge us, teach us, sustain us, and give us immeasurable “wow” moments, just like in the three scenes above.

Back to Sad Tongues and the Intoxicating Aroma of Joy

Despite what we saw in the leadership of the past Republican administration and those still clinging to its vestiges, words do matter, and they can have lasting impact in the march toward the change we want and the change we need to live in peaceful co-existence. The words uttered by a four year-old Canadian girl, whom I’ve never met, shook me to my core, and gave me hope that the world I want to see is still within reach.

I can’t wait until our kids are in charge of everything, because the world will be left in better hands than the ones holding it now. Hands that will form networks and alliances that reach across oceans and nations. Hands that will join together in solidarity to give us peace on the outside, so we can all have peace on the inside.

Her response to “eat your vegetables” wasn’t “But I don’t want to;” it was “Even my tongue is sad.”

She didn’t tell her mother that she didn’t want her to go or that she loved her, but the unforgettable words that escaped her lips were, “You smell like joy.”

Think about that for a minute. A four year-old came up with “You smell like joy.”

Teach them well, and let them lead the way.

Show them all the beauty they possess inside.

May it be so.